Mother

Just before the battle, Mother, I am thinking most of you While upon the fields we're watching, With the enemy in view Comrades, brave, are round me lying Filled with thoughts of home and God For well they know that on the morrow Some will sleep beneath the sod Farewell, Mother, you may never Press me to your heart again But, oh, you'll not forget me, Mother If I'm numbered with the slain Hark, I hear the bugels sounding 'Tis the signal for the fight Now may God protect us, Mother