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