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  • In the bright sunny south, in peace and content

    These days of my boyhood I scarcely have spent

    From the deep flowing spring, to the broad flowing stream

    Ever dear to my memory, the sweeter is my dream

    I lay my confinement and comfort of life

    The dangers of warfare, provision and strife

    I have come to come close and reply with my word

    As I shoulder my musket, and belted my sword

    My father looked sad as he bid me to part

    My mother embraced me with anguish of heart

    My beautiful sister looked pale in her woe

    As she hugged me and blessed me and told me to go

    Dear father, dear father, for me do not weep

    I’m a lonesome man and I mean for to keep

    The dangers of war, I intend for to share

    And for sickness and death, I intend to prepare

    Dear mother, dear mother, for me do not weep

    For a mother's kind voice I always will keep

    You have taught me be brave from a boy to a man

    And I’m going in defense of your own native land

    Dear sister, dear sister, I’m afeared of your woe

    Your grief and your sorrow, they trouble me so

    I must be going, for here I cannot stand

    I’m going in defense of her own native land


  • Short life of trouble

    A few more days of woe

    You knew what you promised

    It’s been some time ago

    Promised you would marry me

    Standing on the ballroom floor

    Short life of trouble

    A few more days of woe

    I see the train a’coming

    Coming by the station now

    I’d rather be dead or in my grave

    Than to see my darling go

    Short life of trouble

    A few more days of woe

  • He’s taken my feet from the mire and the clay

    And he’s placed them on the rock of ages

    I’ll praise him while he gives me breath

    Hope to praise him after death

    And I will praise him as I die

    Shout salvation as I fly

  • As I roved out, on a cold winter’s night

    Drinking of sweet wine

    I spied that girl, that sweet little girl

    Who broke this heart of mine

    Her cheeks are like some red roses

    That bloom in the month of June

    Her voice is like some instrument

    That’s always on some tune

    I wish to the Lord that I’d never been born

    Or died when I was young

    I never would have carried such a broken heart

    Oh the young girl’s flattering tongue

    Oh the green green grass that’s trampled underfoot

    Will rise and bloom again

    But love, it is a killing thing

    Did you ever feel such pain?