I’ll place my knapsack on my back,
My rifle on my shoulder,
I’ll march away to the firing line,
And kill that Yankee soldier,
And kill that Yankee soldier,
I’ll march away to the firing line,
And kill that Yankee soldier.

I’ll bid farewell to my wife and child
Farewell to my aged mother,
And go and join in the bloody strife,
Till this cruel war is over,
Till this cruel war is over,
I’ll go and join in the bloody strife,
Till this cruel war is over.

If I am shot on the battlefield,
And I should not recover,
Oh, who will protect my wife and child,
And care for my aged mother?
And care for my aged mother,
Oh, who will protect my wife and child,
And care for my aged mother?

And if our Southern cause is lost,
And Southern rights denied us,
We’ll be ground beneath the tyrant’s heel,
For our demands of justice,
For our demands of justice,
We’ll be ground beneath the tyrant’s heel,
For our demands of justice.

Before the South shall bow her head,
Before the tyrants harm us,
I’ll give my all to the Southern cause,
And die in the Southern army,
And die in the Southern army,
I’ll give my all to the Southern cause,
And die in the Southern army.

If I must die for my home and land,
My spirit will not falter,
Oh, here’s my heart and here’s my hand,
Upon my country’s altar,
Upon my country’s altar,
Oh, here’s my heart and here’s my hand, Upon my country’s altar.

Then Heaven be with us in the strife,
Be with the Southern soldier,
We’ll drive the mercenary horde,
Beyond our Southern border,
Beyond our Southern border,
We’ll drive the mercenary horde,
Beyond our Southern border.