| He got word the thirteenth day of January nineteen forty two
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| And when his country came a calling he knew what had to do
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| Dressed in white he left port, aboard the USS Arizona
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| And left his wife and baby girl high in the hills of North Carolina
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| He said I don’t know how long I’ll be
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| But you know that I always find a way
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| I hope that y’all won’t worry about me
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| Because I’ll be home in a month full of Sundays
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| Well the days grew long and the nights grew cold
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| Without any word from the outside world
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| Every night he’d close his eyes and see Caroline, his new born baby girl
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| The visions of Elizabeth, her golden hair glistening in the sun
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| And every night he’d lie awake and scream
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| «Lord, what has Roosevelt gone and done»
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| He said I don’t know how long I’ll be
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| But you know that I always find a way
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| I hope that y’all won’t worry about me
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| Because I’ll be home in a month full of Sundays
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| Well after two long years aboard the deck of the USS Arizona
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| He went and got his papers and was headed west to a port in Pensacola
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| When his greyhound crunched to a stop on the solid ground of western North
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| Carolina
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| His wife and his baby girl we’re waiting there to take him home
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| Take him back down the old dirt road, his grandpa used to plow before the Great
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| War
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| Take him back down the holler that leads up by old man William’s general store
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| Take him back down to the big tall pine where him and Elizabeth pledged there
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| love
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| Take him back down, take him back down
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| And take him back down to the place that he calls home
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| He said I don’t know how long I’ll be
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| But you know that I always find a way
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| I hope that y’all won’t worry about me
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| Because I’ll be home in a month full of Sundays |