Tramp! Tramp! Tramp!

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The Tramp in 19th Century Popular Song

Tramp! Tramp! Tramp!

Tramp! Tramp! Tramp! was a Northern song written by George F. Root (1820-1895). It was so popular the Confederacy created their own lyrics. George Root's other tunes include The Vacant Chair, Battle Cry of Freedom and Just Before the Battle Mother.

Lyrics

In the prison cell I sit,
Thinking Mother dear of you,
And our bright and happy home so far away,
And the tears they fill my eyes
Spite of all that I can do
Though I try to cheer my comrades 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 free land in our own beloved home.
In the battle front we stood
When their fiercest charge they made,
And they swept us off a hundred men or more;
But before we reached their lines
They were beaten back, dismayed,
And we heard the cry of vict'ry o'er and o'er.
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 seing home and friends once more.

Southern Lyrics

In my prison cell I sit,
Thinking, Mother, dear, of you,
And my happy Southern home so far away;
And my eyes they fill with tears
'Spite of all that I can do,
Though I try to cheer my comrades and be gay.
Tramp! Tramp! Tramp!
The boys are marching;
Cheer up, comrades, they will come.
And beneath the stars and bars
We shall breathe the air again
Of freemen in our own beloved home..
In the battle front we stood
When their fiercest charge they made,
and our soldiers by the thousands sank to die;
But before they reached our lines,
They were driven back dismayed,
And the "Rebel Yell" went upward to the sky.
Now our great commander Lee
Crosses broad Potomac's stream,
And his legions marching Northward take their way.
On Pennsylvania's roads
Will their trusty muskets gleam,
And her iron hills shall echo to the fray.
In the cruel stockade-pen
Dying slowly day by day,
For weary months we've waited all in vain;
but if God will speed the way
Of our gallant boys in gray,
I shall see your face, dear Mother, yet again.
When I close my eyes in sleep,
All the dear ones 'round me come,
At night my little sister to me calls;
And mocking visions bring
All the warm delights of home,
While we freeze and starve in Northern prison walls.
So the weary days go by,
And we wonder as we sigh,
If with sight of home we'll never more be blessed.
Our hearts within us sink,
And we murmur, though we try
To leave it all with him who knowest best.

References

  • Eicher, David J., The Longest Night: A Military History of the Civil War, Simon & Schuster, 2001, ISBN 0-684-84944-5.

External links

External links