| Today I killed a man I didn’t know
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| I held my rifle high and shot him low
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| I’d like to think he really was to blame
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| Well I never knew or never will his name
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| I guess that someone, somewhere knew him well
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| And they’ll cry when they’re told that he has fell
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| But it’s hard for me to think of him as good
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| 'Cause he’d done me just the same if he could
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| Oh mother, oh mama, I’m so cold
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| And I feel like I am quickly growing old
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| So I hope you are thinking of your son
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| 'Cause tomorrow morning I’ll be twenty-one
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| Oh Johnny Ray, Johnny Ray, oh, he don’t worry now
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| He don’t wonder how
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| Today my sergeant told me I’ve done well
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| That I’d sent another Southern boy to hell
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| But I can’t help wondering about the lost of life
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| And if that rebel soldier had a wife
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| Oh mama, oh mam, I’m so cold
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| And the good book doesn’t help me like you told
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| 'Cause it don’t tell me if I’m right or wrong
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| Or when this war will end, just how long
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| Oh mama, oh mama, I’m so cold
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| And I feel I am quickly growing old
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| So I hope that you are thinking of your son |
| 'Cause tomorrow morning I’ll be twenty-one |