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Tuesday, September 21, 2010


(Traditional Ozark Mountain Folk Song)

Revised Lyrics By:

Oh, Brother Green,
Come right away,
For I am shot
And bleeding.
Here on the ground
Is where I lay.
Please write my love,
I'm pleading.

Tell her I know
She's prayed for me,
And answers
She's been given,
That I might be
Prepared to die
If from this life,
I'm driven.

The Northern foe
Has laid me low
In my own blood
To smother,
And now to Heaven,
I will go
To see my
Dear old mother.

Go tell my love
She must not grieve.
Go kiss my
Little sisters,
For they will call
To me in vain,
'Though by
The Yankees,
I've been slain.

My one brother
In this world wide
Is fighting for
The Union.
But I fought for
The other side
And I shall die
A Southron.

My Darling, how
I love you well!
Could we but
Meet again,
This solemn vow,
To you, I'd tell,
That we will greet
In Heaven.

NOTES: The term, "SOUTHRON", originates in Scotland, and is used by modern day Southerners who preserve Confederate ideals, to distinguish themselves from folks who merely dwell in the South, but won't defend Confederate heritage.

The word "die" is pronounced in the Scottish way, as "dee".

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