Just Before The Battle, Mother
By George F. Root, 1863
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 around me lying,
Filled with thoughts of home and God;
For well they know upon the morrow,
Some will sleep beneath the sod
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
Oh, I long to see you, Mother,
and the loving ones at home;
But I'll never leave our banner,
'till in honor I can come.
Tell the enemy around you
That their cruel words, we know,
In every battle kill our soldiers
by the help they give the foe.
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.