Lyrics

I was there in the winter of '64

When we camped in the ice

at Nashville's doors

Three hundred miles our trail had led

We barely had time to bury our dead

When the Yankees charged and the colors fell

Overton hill was a living hell

When we called retreat it was almost dark

I died with a grapeshot in my heart

Say a prayer for peace

For every fallen son

Set my spirit free

Let me lay down my gun

Sweet mother Mary I'm so tired

But I can't come home 'til

the last shot's fired

In June of 1944

I waited in the blood of Omaha's shores

Twenty-one and scared to death

...

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