A-follerin’ the old war tunes they’re playin’ on the band,
And citizens all jinin’ in—and little children, too—
All marchin’ under shelter of the old Red, White and Blue,
With roses! roses! roses!—ev’rybody in the town!
And crowds of girls in white, just fairly loaded down!
Oh! don’t the boys know it, from their camp across the hill?
Don’t they see their comrades comin’ and the old flag wavin’ still?
Oh! can’t they hear the bugle and the rattle of the drum?—
Ain’t they no way under heaven they can rickollect us some?
Ain’t they no way we can coax ’em through the roses, just to say