Just Before The Battle, Mother
1_ Just before the battle
mother,
I am thinking most of you,
While upon the field we're watching,
With the enemy in view.
Comrades brave are round me lying,
Filled with thoughts of home and God;
For well they know that on the morrow
Some will sleep beneath the sod.
Chorus:
Farewell Mother, you may never
Press me to your heart again;
But oh, you'll not forget me, Mother,
If I'm numbered with the slain.
2_ Hark! I hear the bugles sounding,
'Tis the signal for the fight;
Now may God protect us, Mother,
As He ever does the right
Hear the "Battle cry of freedom",
How it swells upon the air;
Oh, yes, we'll rally round the standard,
Or, we'll perish nobly there.
Chorus:
Farewell Mother, you may never
Press me to your heart again;
But oh, you'll not forget me, Mother,
If I'm numbered with the slain.
(George F. Root)
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