Raise me in your arms my brother.
Let me see the glorious sun.
I am weary, faint and dying,
How is the battle, loat or won;
I remember you my brother,
Sent to me that fatal dart,
Brother fighting against brother,
’Tis well ’tis well that thus we part,
Brother fighting against brother,
’Tis well, ’tis well that thus we part.
Write a letter to my mother,
Send it when her boy is dead;
That he perish’d by his brother.
Not a word of that he said.
Father’s fighting for the Union,
And you may meet him on the field.
Could you raise your arm to smite him,
Oh, would you bid that Father yield;
He who loved us in our childhood,
Taught the infant pray’rs we said,
Brother take from me a warning,
I’ll soon be number’d with the dead,
Brother take from me a warning,
I’ll soon be number’d with the dead.
Write a letter to my mother,
Send it when her boy is dead;
That he perish’d by his brother.
Not a word of that he said.
Do you ever think of mother,
In our home within the glen
Watching, praying for her children,
Oh, would you see that home again;
Brother I am surely dying,
Keep the secret for ’tis one,
That would kill our angel mother,
If she but knew what you have done,
That would kill our angel mother,
If she but knew what you have done.
Write a letter to my mother,
Send it when her boy is dead;
That he perish’d by his brother.
Not a word of that he said.
Let me see the glorious sun.
I am weary, faint and dying,
How is the battle, loat or won;
I remember you my brother,
Sent to me that fatal dart,
Brother fighting against brother,
’Tis well ’tis well that thus we part,
Brother fighting against brother,
’Tis well, ’tis well that thus we part.
Write a letter to my mother,
Send it when her boy is dead;
That he perish’d by his brother.
Not a word of that he said.
Father’s fighting for the Union,
And you may meet him on the field.
Could you raise your arm to smite him,
Oh, would you bid that Father yield;
He who loved us in our childhood,
Taught the infant pray’rs we said,
Brother take from me a warning,
I’ll soon be number’d with the dead,
Brother take from me a warning,
I’ll soon be number’d with the dead.
Write a letter to my mother,
Send it when her boy is dead;
That he perish’d by his brother.
Not a word of that he said.
Do you ever think of mother,
In our home within the glen
Watching, praying for her children,
Oh, would you see that home again;
Brother I am surely dying,
Keep the secret for ’tis one,
That would kill our angel mother,
If she but knew what you have done,
That would kill our angel mother,
If she but knew what you have done.
Write a letter to my mother,
Send it when her boy is dead;
That he perish’d by his brother.
Not a word of that he said.
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