Southern

Where musket fire
Billows pink and yeller
Cannons louwer and
Wounded moan,
I am a southern
Soldier boy and
Far from my home.
Shot to pieces
Packaged in string
Upon my cheek
And forehead I feel
My sister’s gentle kiss,
I am a southern
Soldier boy and
Far from my home.
Marching double time
Through the gloom
I hold my musket close
Hearing the cannon roar,
I am a southern
Soldier boy and
Far from my home.