Do not mourn, my mother, dear, every pang will soon be o'er;
For I hear the angel band, calling from their starry shore;
Now I see their banners wave
In the light of perfect day,
Though 'tis hard to part with you,
Yet I would not wish to stay.
For the dear old Flag I die,
Mother, dry your weeping eye;
For the honor of our land
And the dear old Flag I die.
Farewell mother, Death's cold hand
Weighs upon my spirit now,
And I feel his blighting breath
Fan my pallid cheek and brow.
Closer! closer! to your heart,
Let me feel that you are by,
While my sight is growing dim,
For the dear old Flag I die.
Mother, dry your weeping eye;
For the honor of our land
And the dear old Flag I die.