Part 6

When the summer breeze is sighing, Mournfully along! Or when autumn leaves are falling, Sadly breathes the song. Oft in dreams I see thee lying On the battle plain, Lonely, wounded, even dying; Calling, but in vain.--CHORUS.

If amid the din of battle Nobly you should fall, Far away from those who love you, None to hear you call, Who would whisper words of comfort, Who would soothe your pain? Ah! the many cruel fancies Ever in my brain.--CHORUS.

But our country called you, darling, Angels cheer your way, While our nation's sons are fighting We can only pray. Nobly strike for God and liberty, Let all nations see How we love our starry banner, Emblem of the free.--CHORUS.

WE ARE COMING, FATHER ABRAHAM.

(Used by permission of S. Brainard's Sons, owners of the copyright.)

We are coming, Father Abraham--three hundred thousand more, From Mississippi's winding stream and from New England's shore; We leave our plows and workshops, our wives and children dear, With hearts too full for utterance, with but a silent tear; We dare not look behind us, but steadfastly before-- We are coming, Father Abraham--three hundred thousand more!

If you look across the hill-tops that meet the northern sky, Long moving lines of rising dust your vision may descry; And now the wind, an instant, tears the cloud veil aside, And floats aloft our spangled flag in glory and in pride; And bayonets in the sunlight gleam, and bands brave music pour-- We are coming, Father Abraham--three hundred thousand more!

If you look all up our valleys, where the growing harvests shine, You may see our sturdy farmer-boys fast forming into line, And children from their mothers' knees are pulling at the weeds, And learning how to reap and sow, against their country's needs; And a farewell group stands weeping at every cottage door-- We are coming, Father Abraham--three hundred thousand more!

You have called us, and we're coming, by Richmond's bloody tide, To lay us down for freedom's sake, our brothers' bones beside. Or from foul treason's savage grasp to wrench the murderous blade, And in the face of foreign foes its fragments to parade. Six hundred thousand loyal men and true have gone before-- We are coming, Father Abraham--three hundred thousand more!

TENTING ON THE OLD CAMP GROUND.

(Used by permission of S. Brainard's Sons, owners of the copyright.)

KEY OF A.

We're tenting tonight on the old camp ground; Give us a song to cheer Our weary hearts; a song of home And friends we love so dear.

CHORUS.

Many are the hearts that are weary tonight, Wishing for the war to cease; Many are the hearts looking for the right, To see the dawn of peace; Tenting tonight, tenting tonight, Tenting on the old camp ground.

We've been tenting tonight on the old camp ground, Thinking of days gone by, Of loved ones at home who gave us the hand And the tear that said good-bye.--CHORUS.

We're tired of the war on the old camp ground; Many are dead and gone Of the brave and true who have left their homes; Others been wounded long.--CHORUS.

We've been fighting today on the old camp ground; Many are lying near; Some are dead and some are dying, Many are in tears.

CHORUS.

Many are the hearts that are weary tonight, Wishing for the war to cease; Many are the hearts looking for the right, To see the dawn of peace; Dying tonight, dying tonight, Dying on the old camp ground.

JOHN BROWN'S SONG.

(Used by permission of S. Brainard's Sons.)

John Brown's body lies a mouldering in the grave, John Brown's body lies a mouldering in the grave, John Brown's body lies a mouldering in the grave, His soul's marching on!

CHORUS.

Glory Hally, Hallelujah! Glory Hally, Hallelujah! Glory Hally, Hallelujah! His soul's marching on!

He's gone to be a soldier in the army of our Lord, He's gone to be a soldier in the army of our Lord, He's gone to be a soldier in the army of our Lord, His soul's marching on!

CHORUS.

Glory Hally, Hallelujah! Glory Hally, Hallelujah! Glory Hally, Hallelujah! His soul's marching on!