Just Before the Battle, Mother lyrics

Just before the battle, Mother,

I am thinking most of you

While upon the fields we're watching,

With the enemy in view

Comrades, brave, are 'round me lying

Filled 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

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 up in the air

Yes, we'll rally 'round the standard1

Or we'll perish nobly there

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

1. A military or ceremonial flag carried on a pole or hoisted on a rope.