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
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But the last car it was silent, they listened close but they couldn't hear
It was laden down with coffins, that didn't speak and couldn't cheer
No prayer, no promise, no hand of god could save the souls of the blue and gray