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,
Fill'd with thoughts of home and God;
For well they know, that on 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 traitors, all around you,
That their cruel words, we know,
In ev'ry battle kill our soldiers
By the help the 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 all rally round the standard,
Or we'll parish nobly there.