| The news was run from Richmond
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| In that fading April sun
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| That Lee had handed Grant his sword
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| The war was finally won
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| Into the streets the people spilled
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| Feeling the excitement build
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| And the crowd around the Whitehouse milled
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| Asking is it true — it’s finally done?
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| Inside the Whitehouse Lincoln heard them calling out his name
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| He sat there wondering what to say there years of pain
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| Someone yelled
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| «Come out the door
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| And tell us what you have in store
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| For the rebels that have lost the war»
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| So out upon the porch Abe Lincoln came
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| He said:
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| We are gathered not in anger but in celebration
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| Let’s be grateful we are once again a single nation
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| Let’s stand together, reassured
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| Now that peace has been secured
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| Our nations illness can be cured
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| And I suggest the overture…
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| For this occasion
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| He said let the band play dixie
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| Play that tune that holds its head up high and proud
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| And let our nation once divided, bloody but unbowed
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| Take the swords of war and beat them back into a plow
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| On the day that we surrendered Mr. Lincoln told the crowd:
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| Let the band play dixie
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| A tired Union soldier
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| Hobbled on his only limb
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| Filled with bitter memories
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| The war had left with him
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| He dragged his wooden leg and cane
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| His face was set and creased with pain
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| He stumbled fell and rose again
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| And he wondered — what the future held for him
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| He spied a black child kneeling there in humble gratitude
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| He knelt down right beside her to share her thankful mood
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| Grateful words were raised in prayer
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| God in your sweet loving care
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| Our broken lives now please repair
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| And let our broken nation be renewed
|
| Let the band play dixie
|
| Play that tune that holds its head up high and proud
|
| And let our nation once divided, bloody but unbowed
|
| Take the swords of war and beat them back into a plow
|
| On the day that we surrendered Mr. Lincoln told the crowd:
|
| Let the band play dixie
|
| Let the band play dixie |