Just Before The Battle, Mother
George Frederick Root| Original | Altra parodia, anche questa ben più contro la guerra che non... |
| JUST BEFORE THE BATTLE, MOTHER Just before the battle, mother, I am thinking most of you, While upon the field 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. CHORUS: Farewell, mother, you may never Press me to your breast again, But, oh, you'll not forget me, mother, If I'm numbered with the slain. Oh, I long to see you, mother, And the loving ones at home, But I'll never leave our banner, Till in honor I can come. Tell the traitors all around you That their cruel words we know, In every battle kill our soldiers By the help they give the foe. Hark! I hear the bugles sounding, 'Tis the signal for the fight, Now, may God protect us, mother, As He ever does the right. Hear the "Battle-Cry of Freedom," How it swells upon the air, Oh, yes, we'll rally 'round the standard, Or we'll perish nobly there. | JUST BEHIND THE BATTLE, MOTHER Just behind the battle, Mother I'll come slinking home to you. For the cannons' rattle, Mother Makes me feel Almighty blue. I am not as fond of dying, As my comrades seem to be; So, from missiles 'round me flying, I'll come slinking home to thee. Mother, can't you hear the hissing Of the bullets, all too plain. I may be numbered with the missing, But never, never with the slain. Gently falls the night, dear Mother Gently slopes the battle plain. But I'll be, still more gently, Mother, Sloping home to you again. I care not a whit for glory, Or for laurels on my brow. I would rather see them laurels In your kitchen garden now. Mother, can't you hear the hissing Of the bullets, all too plain. I may be numbered with the missing, But never, never with the slain. I am sorry I resisted Your entreatings long ago. I was staunch when I enlisted, But I'm much more flight now. When I'm back again, dear Mother, From your side I'll never roam. I'll defend my country's honor In tranquillity at home. Mother, can't you hear the hissing Of the bullets, all too plain. I may be numbered with the missing, But never, never with the slain. |
