There's a crowning golden harvest,
There's turkey the heart to cheer,
There's a basket from home with plenty of "pone,"
Tho' 'tis bathed in a mother's tear.
What 'f our friends are far from us
And they know not where we are?
What if those who are dearest
Live ever away so far?
There's room for us by th' fireside,
Where in childhood days we'd play;
'Tis comfort to think, tho' we stand on the brink,
That we will be there some day.
What if our hearts are lonely
As we toil in our enemy's hand?
What if our sad looks betray us
As we take a true manly stand?
There's a coming golden harvest,
There's a time when we all'll meet,
When prison locks and iron bars
Will fail to ther pris'n'r keep.