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March on, soldier boy in blue, Flag in trouble calls for you; Bayonet glist 'ning, clothes all new, Grand inspiring sight to view.
So when you march along the street,
Listen to the cheers, But when you come back sick or dead There are no cheers or tears.
Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching, Marching on in line. You don't belong to the regulars, you 're just a volunteer, You 're only one of the rank and file, But some one holds you dear! Many a mother's heart will ache, and in the coming year Uncle Sam will take off his hat to you, Mister Volunteer.
Come home, soldier boy in blue, War is over, you are through. There is nothing left to do; They have no more use for you ;
A mother waits your coming home
With open arms of joy; She cares not how you look in rags, She only sees her boy.