In the prison cell I sit, thinking Mother, dear, of you, <br />And our bright and happy home so far away, <br />And the tears, they fill my eyes 'spite of all that I can do, <br />Tho' I try to cheer my comrades and be gay. <br /> <br />Chorus: <br /> <br />Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching, <br />Cheer up, comrades, they will come, <br />And beneath the starry flag we shall breathe the air again <br />Of the free land in our own beloved home. <br /> <br />In the battle front we stood, when their fiercest charge they made, <br />And they swept us off a hundred men or more, <br />But before we reached their lines, they were beaten back dismayed, <br />And we heard the cry of vict'ry o'er and o'er. <br /> <br />CHORUS <br /> <br />So within the prison cell we are waiting for the day <br />That shall come to open wide the iron door, <br />And the hollow eye grows bright, and the poor heart almost gay, <br />As we think of seeing home and friends once more. <br /> <br />CHORUS<br /><br />George Frederick Root<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tramp-tramp-tramp/
