G
In a dreary Yankee prison
Where a rebel soldier lay
By his side there stood a preacher
Ere his soul should pass away
And he faintly whispered: Parson
As he clutched him by the hand
Oh, parson, tell me quickly
Will my soul pass through the Southland?
A
Will my soul pass through the Southland
Through old Virginia grants
Will I see the hills of Georgia
And the green fields of Alabam?
Will I see that little church house
Where I pledged my heart and hand
Oh, parson, tell me quickly
Will my soul pass through the Southland?
C
Was for loving dear old Dixie
In this dreary cell I lie
Was for loving dear old Dixie
In this northern state I die
Will you see my little daughter
Will you make her understand
Oh, parson, tell me quickly
Will my soul pass through the Southland?
Then the Rebel Soldier Died
In a dreary Yankee prison
Where a rebel soldier lay
By his side there stood a preacher
Ere his soul should pass away
And he faintly whispered: Parson
As he clutched him by the hand
Oh, parson, tell me quickly
Will my soul pass through the Southland?
A
Will my soul pass through the Southland
Through old Virginia grants
Will I see the hills of Georgia
And the green fields of Alabam?
Will I see that little church house
Where I pledged my heart and hand
Oh, parson, tell me quickly
Will my soul pass through the Southland?
C
Was for loving dear old Dixie
In this dreary cell I lie
Was for loving dear old Dixie
In this northern state I die
Will you see my little daughter
Will you make her understand
Oh, parson, tell me quickly
Will my soul pass through the Southland?
Then the Rebel Soldier Died