In the pris-on cell I sit think-ing moth-er dear, of you,
and our bright and hap-py home so far a-way.
And the tears they fill my eyes, spite of all that I can do,
though I try to cheer my com-rades and be gay. 

Tramp, tramp, tramp! the boys are march - ing.  
Cheer up, com-rades, they will come. 
And be-neath the star-ry flag we shall breathe the air again
of the free land in our own be-lov-ed home.

In the bat-tle front we stand when their fierc-est 
charge they made and they swept us off a hun-dred men or more.
But be-fore we reached the lines they were beat-en back dis-mayed,
and we heard the cry of vic - t'ry o'er and o'er.

Tramp, tramp, tramp! the boys are march - ing.  
Cheer up, com-rades, they will come. 
And be-neath the star-ry flag we shall breathe the air again
of the free land in our own be-lov-ed home.

So with-in the pri-son cell we are wait-ing for the day
that shall come to o-pen wide the i - ron door.
And the hol-low eye grows bright, and the poor heart al-most gay
as we think of see-ing home and friends once more. 

Tramp, tramp, tramp! the boys are march - ing.  
Cheer up, com-rades, they will come. 
And be-neath the star-ry flag we shall breathe the air again
of the free land in our own be-lov-ed home.