Tramp, Tramp, Tramp

Tramp, Tramp, Tramp
1803

In my 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 como,
And beneath the starry flag
We shall breathe the air again
Of the freeland in our own beloved home

In the battle front we stood,
When their fiercest charge was made,
And they swept us off a hundred men or more;
But before we reached their lines
They were driven back dismayed,
And we heard the cry of victory 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 seeing home and friends once more