| For the dear old flag I die
|
| Said the wounded drummer boy
|
| Mother, press your lips to mine
|
| O, they bring me peace and joy
|
| 'Tis the last time on earth
|
| I shall ever see your face
|
| Mother take me to your heart
|
| Let me die in your embrace
|
| For the dear old flag I die
|
| Mother, dry your weeping eye
|
| For the honor of our land
|
| And the dear old Flag I die
|
| Do not mourn, my mother, dear
|
| Every pang will soon be o’er
|
| For I hear the angel band
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| Calling from their starry shore
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| Now I see their banners wave
|
| In the light of perfect day
|
| Though 'tis hard to part with you
|
| Yet I would not wish to stay
|
| For the dear old flag I die
|
| Mother, dry your weeping eye
|
| For the honor of our land
|
| And the dear old flag I die
|
| Farewell, mother, death’s cold hand
|
| Weighs upon my spirit now
|
| And I feel his blighting breath
|
| Fan my pallid cheek and brow
|
| Closer, closer to your heart
|
| Let me feel that you are by
|
| While my sight is growing dim
|
| For the dear old flag I die
|
| For the dear old flag I die
|
| Mother, dry your weeping eye
|
| For the honor of our land
|
| And the dear old flag I die
|
| For the honor of our land
|
| And the dear old flag I die |