The fearful struggle's ended now and peace smiles on our land,
And though we've yielded we have proved ourselves a faithful band.
We fought them long, we fought them well, we fought them night and day,
And bravely struggled for our rights while wearing of the gray.
And now that we have ceased to fight and pledged our sacred word,
That we against the Union's might no more will draw the sword,
We feel despite the sneers of those who never smelt the fray,
That we've a manly, honest right to wearing of the gray.
Our cause is lost the more we fight 'gainst o'erwhelming power,
All wearied are our limbs and drenched with many a battle shower.
We feign we rest for want of strength in yielding up the day,
And lower the flag so proudly born while wearing of the gray.
Defeat is not dishonor, our honor not bereft,
We thank God that in our hearts this priceless boon was left.
And though we weep just for those braves who stood in proud array,
Beneath our flag and nobly died while wearing of the gray.
When in the ranks of war we stood and faced the deadly hail,
Our simple suits of gray composed our only coats of mail.
And on the awful hours that marked the bloody battle day,
In memories we'll still be seen wearing of the gray.
Oh! should we reach that glorious place where waits a sparklin' crown,
For everyone who for the right his soldier life lay down.
God grant to us the privilege upon that happy day,
Of claspin' hands with those who fell while wearing of the gray.
And though we've yielded we have proved ourselves a faithful band.
We fought them long, we fought them well, we fought them night and day,
And bravely struggled for our rights while wearing of the gray.
And now that we have ceased to fight and pledged our sacred word,
That we against the Union's might no more will draw the sword,
We feel despite the sneers of those who never smelt the fray,
That we've a manly, honest right to wearing of the gray.
Our cause is lost the more we fight 'gainst o'erwhelming power,
All wearied are our limbs and drenched with many a battle shower.
We feign we rest for want of strength in yielding up the day,
And lower the flag so proudly born while wearing of the gray.
Defeat is not dishonor, our honor not bereft,
We thank God that in our hearts this priceless boon was left.
And though we weep just for those braves who stood in proud array,
Beneath our flag and nobly died while wearing of the gray.
When in the ranks of war we stood and faced the deadly hail,
Our simple suits of gray composed our only coats of mail.
And on the awful hours that marked the bloody battle day,
In memories we'll still be seen wearing of the gray.
Oh! should we reach that glorious place where waits a sparklin' crown,
For everyone who for the right his soldier life lay down.
God grant to us the privilege upon that happy day,
Of claspin' hands with those who fell while wearing of the gray.
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