It’s a gloomy Tuesday morning—

    the holidays didn’t last.

Why are the Aggies mourning?

    The flag—it’s at half-mast!

“There’ll be Silver Taps tonight men.”

    we all hear the speaker say,

And everyone feels a chill, and then,

    each one prays in his own way.

One by one the lights go out tonight

    till lifeless stands each dorm.

“He was a good Ag—he put a good fight.”

    for their brother they all mourn.

Six thousand Aggies start to gather,

    approaching with muffled footsteps.

We’ll bid him farewell together

    and render him Silver Taps.

“Dear God, he was not perfect, that is true;

    You know, for You have kept the score.

But deep in him there was love for You,

    please give him rest for evermore.”

So, come on bugles, let us hear,

    while the angels wipe their eyes,

The solemn taps we love so dear

    for one of ours in paradise.

Just wait till April comes around,

    and his name is called out from the roster,

“Here!” We’ll hear in a clear sound—

     he’ll be there at the Muster.

By José Castilla, Jr. ’62

April 1961

Walton Dorm, Texas AMC