Well I wish I was in the land of cotton
Old times they are not forgotten
Look away, look away, look away
Dixie Land
Hollow my skit and cannon
Half torn his grey cloak
Don't he look fine and handsome
Don't he look at his most
Forty-five in the fox holes
And of this I will boast
Don't they look fine and handsome
My poor Johnny-boy's bones
Well, who will bring back
my Johnny-boy's bones
To lay 'neath the trees
of his Tennessee home
Hey box, hey box
made o' sturdy white oak
With his arms folded up
and his blue eyes all closed
Well he died for his country
And he died for his kin
And he died killin' men
A most honourable sin
But them mean boys in blue
They done turned him in
When they laid him low
With no life and a grin
Oh, who will bring back my
Johnny-boy's bones
To lay 'neath the trees
of our Tennessee home
Hey box, hey box
made from sturdy white oak
With his arms folded up
and his blue eyes all closed
Oh, who will bring back my
Johnny-boy's bones
To lay 'neath the trees
of our Tennessee home
Hey box, hey box
made from sturdy white oak
With his arms folded up
and his blue eyes all closed
Oh, who will bring back my
Johnny-boy's bones
To lay 'neath the trees
of our Tennessee home
Hey box, hey box
made from sturdy white oak
With his arms folded up
and his blue eyes all closed