John Brown’s body lies a-mould’ring in the grave,
John Brown’s body lies a-mould’ring in the grave,
John Brown’s body lies a-mould’ring in the grave,
His soul is marching on!
_Chorus_.--Glory! Glory Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory Hallelujah!
His soul is marching on.
He’s gone to be a soldier in the army of the Lord!
He’s gone to be a soldier in the army of the Lord!
He’s gone to be a soldier in the army of the Lord!
His soul is marching on.--_Chorus._
John Brown’s knapsack is strapped upon his back.
His soul is marching on.--_Chorus._
His pet lambs will meet him on the way,
And they’ll go marching on.--_Chorus._
They’ll hang Jeff Davis on a sour apple tree,
As they go marching on.--_Chorus._
Now for the Union let’s give three rousing cheers,
As we go marching on.
Hip, hip, hip, hip, Hurrah!
[Illustration]
[Illustration]