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TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP,
Key of B Hat.
In my prison-cell I sit,
Thinking, mother dear, of you, And of all the happy friends so far away;
And the tears they filled my eyes,
Spite of all that I could do, Though I tried to cheer my comades and be gay.
Chorus.—Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching; Cheer up, comrades, they will come; And beneath the starry flag, we shall breathe the air again Of the freemen in our own beloved home!
In the battle front we stood
When the fiercest charge was made, And they swept us off—a hundred men or more;
But, before they reached our lines,
They were driven back dismayed, And we heard the cry of victory o'er and o'er.
Chorus.—Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching, etc.
So, within the prison cell.
We are waiting for the day That shall come to open wide the iron door;
And the hollow eye grows bright,
And the poor heart almost gay, As we think of seeing home and friends once more.
Chorus.—Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching, etc. |
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