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                       D
Just before the battle, mother,
E                     A  E
I am thinking most of you
A                          D
While upon the field we're watching,
E                 A
with the enemy in view.
                             D
Comrades brave are 'round me lying,
E                                A  E
filled with thoughts of home and God
    A                          D
For well they know that on the morrow,
E                           A
some will sleep beneath the sod. 

A                         D
Farewell, mother, you may never,
E                        A   E
press me to your breast again
     A                         D
But, oh, you'll not forget me, mother,
E                        A
if I'm numbered with the slain.
[ Tab from: http://www.guitaretab.com/g/george-f-root/272704.html ]
A                      D
Oh, I long to see you, mother,
E                      A  E
and the loving ones at home
    A                    D
But I'll never leave our banner,
E                   A
till in honor I can come.
                       D                         
Tell the traitors all around you,
E                         A  E
that their cruel words we know
   A                     D
In every battle kill our soldiers,
E                         A
by the help they give the foe.

A                         D
Farewell, mother, you may never,
E                        A  E
press me to your breast again
     A                         D
But, oh, you'll not forget me, mother,
E                        A
if I'm numbered with the slain.


A                       D
Hark! I hear the bugles sounding,
E                       A
'Tis the signal for the fight,
                         D
Now, may God protect us, mother,
E                   A    E
as He ever does the right.
A                       D
Hear the "Battle-Cry of Freedom,"
E                      A
how it swells upon the air
                                D
Oh, yes, we'll rally 'round the standard,
E                     A
or we'll perish nobly there.

A                         D
Farewell, mother, you may never,
E                        A  E
press me to your breast again
     A                          D
But, oh, you'll not forget me, mother,
E                        A
if I'm numbered with the slain.


Set8

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