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We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more, |
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From Mississippi's winding stream and from New England's shore. |
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We leave our plows and workshops, our wives and children dear, |
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With hearts too full for utterance, with but a silent tear. |
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We dare not look behind us but steadfastly before. |
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We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more! |
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We are coming, coming, our Union to restore, |
[00:40.122] |
We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more! |
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If you look across the hilltops that meet the northern sky, |
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Long moving lines of rising dust your vision may descry; |
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And now the wind, an instant, tears the cloudy veil aside, |
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And floats aloft our spangled flag in glory and in pride; |
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And bayonets in the sunlight gleam, and bands brave music pour, |
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We are coming, father Abr'am, three hundred thousand more! |
[01:19.133] |
We are coming, coming, our Union to restore, |
[01:23.434] |
We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more! |
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If you look up all our valleys where the growing harvests shine, |
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You may see our sturdy farmer boys fast forming into line; |
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And children from their mother's knees are pulling at the weeds, |
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And learning how to reap and sow against their country's needs; |
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And a farewell group stands weeping at every cottage door, |
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We are coming, Father Abr'am, three hundred thousand more! |
[02:02.790] |
We are coming, coming, our Union to restore, |
[02:07.348] |
We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more! |