Dropkick Murphys

Now the fog and smoke is lifting
From the fallen row on row
In 1861 they prayed for
God to keep their souls
Jimmy left home in April,
That was one year to the day
Writes his mother back home in Brighton,
But he ain't got much to say
He's forgotten what his town looks like,
The smell of death is all around
He dreams of the blue Atlantic
To once again be homeward bound
Homeward bound
Though the road was long and winding
Many snares lay in their path
But their struggle they saw as righteous
They fought with might and struck with wrath
Now the battle hymns are playing,
Report of shots not far away
No prayer, no promise, no hand of God
Could save their souls that April day
Tell their wives that they fought bravely
As they lay them in their graves
As the train pulled in the station
And the families gathered 'round
You could hear the first cart echo