For the dear old flag I die,
Said the wounded drummer boy;
Mother, press your lips to mine;
O, they bring me peace and joy!,
Tis the last time on the earth
I shall ever see your face,
Mother take me to your heart,
Let me die in your embrace.

For the dear old flag I die,
Mother, dry your weeping eye;
For the honor of our land
And the dear old flag I die.

Do not mourn, my Mother, dear,
Every pang will soon be o'er;
For I hear the angel band
Calling from their starry shore;
Now I see their banners wave
In the light of perfect day,
Though 'tis hard to part with you,
Yet I would not wish to stay.