In the [G]prison cell I sit, thinking [C]mother, dear, of [G]you
And our bright and happy [A7]home so far a[D7]way.
And the [G]tears they fill my eyes, in spite [C]of all that I can [G]do
Though I [C]try to cheer my [D7]comrades and be [G]gay.
[G]Tramp, tramp, tramp. The boys are marching.
[D7]Cheer [G]up, comrades, they will [D7]come.
And be[G]neath the starry flag, we shall [C]breathe the air a[G]gain
Of the [C]free land in [D7]our own beloved[G] homes.
In the [G]battle front we stood, when their [C]fiercest charge they[G] made
and they swept us off, a [A7]hundred men or [D7]more.
But be[G]fore they reached our lines, they were [C]beaten back, dis[G]mayed
And we [C]heard the cry of [D7]victory o’er and [G]o’er.
[G]Tramp, tramp, tramp. The boys are marching.
[D7]Cheer [G]up, comrades, they will [D7]come.
And be[G]neath the starry flag, we shall [C]breathe the air a[G]gain
Of the [C]free land in [D7]our own beloved[G] homes.
