In the prison cell I sit, thinking mother dear of you
And our bright and happy home so far away
And the tears they fill my eyes in spite of all that I can do
Tho' I try to cheer my comrades and be gay.

Chorus: Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching
Cheer up comrades they will come
And beneath the starry flag we shall breathe the air again
Of the free land in our own beloved home.

In the battle front we stood when their finest charge they made
And they swept us off a hundred men or more
But before we reached their lines they were beaten back dismayed
And we heard the cry of victory o'er and o'er.


So within the prison cell we are waiting for the day
That shall come to open wide the iron door
And the hollow eye grows bright and the poor heart almost gay
As we think of seeing home and friends once more.


Taken up by the soldiers in the American Civil war but seems to have first been
published in England.