A In my prison cell I sit,D A thinking, mother, dear, of you,E and our bright and happy home so far awayA And my eyes they fill with tears,D A 'spite of all that I can do,E A though I try to cheer my comrades and be gay.A Tramp! Tramp! Tramp! The boys are marching;E A E cheer up, comrades, they will come.A And beneath the starry flagD A we shall breathe the air againD E A Of the free land in our own beloved home.A In the battle front we stood,D A when their fiercest charge they made,E and they swept us off a hundred men or moreA But before we reached their lines,D A they were beaten back, dismayed,E A and we heard the cry of vict'ry o'er and o'er.A Tramp! Tramp! Tramp! The boys are marching;E A E cheer up, comrades, they will come.A And beneath the starry flagD A we shall breathe the air againD E A Of the free land in our own beloved home.A So within the prison cell,D A we are waiting for the day,E that shall come to open wide the iron doorA And the hollow eye grows bright,D A and the poor heart almost gay,E A as we think of seeing home and friends once more.A Tramp! Tramp! Tramp! The boys are marching;E A E cheer up, comrades, they will come.A And beneath the starry flagD A we shall breathe the air againD E A Of the free land in our own beloved home.
Tramp Tramp Tramp
George F. Root
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Continua depois do anúncio
Tom:
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