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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.