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A soldier boy lay dying in a distant foreign land, His tent mate there beside him gently took him by the hand ; Outside the tent his comrades passed him by on dress parade, And eagerly he listened to the tune the old band played. The strains of Down In Dixie, The Old Red, White And Blue, Came softly floating on the breeze with Hail Columbia, too, His thoughts were turning homeward as he brushed away a tear. And whispered to his comrade, There's a tune I'd like to hear.


Just have the band play Home Sweet Home, It will bring thoughts of those far across the foam, Why don't they play the old tune today To cheer up the lads who roam, Dixie is a tune that is sweet and grand, The Red, White and Blue makes us love our land ; But one simple strain I long for again, Just have the band play Home Sweet Home.

His comrade's eyes were dimming with the tears he dare not shed, For he was there to comfort, so with cherry voice he said, I'll go and see the Captain, he will tell the band to play The tune you long so much to hear and make you glad today, And when he told the story, the band marched to the tent, The tender strains of Home Sweet Home straight to each heart soon went; The lips so white and silent, of the lad whose soul had fled, Seemed formed to whisper once again the pleading words he said.


Composed by MICHAEL O'Brien, Richmond, Va. PRICE 5 CENTS.