George F Root – Just Before The Battle Mother chords

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# This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the #
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Just Before the Battle Mother chords
George F. Root 1862

A                       DJust before the battle, mother,
E                     A  EI am thinking most of you
A                          DWhile upon the field we're watching,
E                 Awith the enemy in view.
                             DComrades brave are 'round me lying,
E                                A  Efilled with thoughts of home and God
    A                          DFor well they know that on the morrow,
E                           Asome will sleep beneath the sod. 

A                         DFarewell, mother, you may never,
E                        A   Epress me to your breast again
     A                         DBut, oh, you'll not forget me, mother,
E                        Aif I'm numbered with the slain.

A                      DOh, I long to see you, mother,
E                      A  Eand the loving ones at home
    A                    DBut I'll never leave our banner,
E                   Atill in honor I can come.
                       D                         Tell the traitors all around you,
E                         A  Ethat their cruel words we know
   A                     DIn every battle kill our soldiers,
E                         Aby the help they give the foe.

A                         DFarewell, mother, you may never,
E                        A  Epress me to your breast again
     A                         DBut, oh, you'll not forget me, mother,
E                        Aif I'm numbered with the slain.


A                       DHark! I hear the bugles sounding,
E                       A'Tis the signal for the fight,
                         DNow, may God protect us, mother,
E                   A    Eas He ever does the right.
A                       DHear the "Battle-Cry of Freedom,"
E                      Ahow it swells upon the air
                                DOh, yes, we'll rally 'round the standard,
E                     Aor we'll perish nobly there.

A                         DFarewell, mother, you may never,
E                        A  Epress me to your breast again
     A                          DBut, oh, you'll not forget me, mother,
E                        Aif I'm numbered with the slain.


Set8

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