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The Legend of the Rebel Soldier (arr. Moore) In a dreary Yankee prison where a rebel soldier lay By his side there stood a preacher ere his soul should pass away And he faintly whispered parson, as he clutched him by the hand Oh parson, tell me quickly, will my soul pass through the Southland? Will my soul pass through the Southland, through Old Virginia grand? Will I see the hills of Georgia, and the green fields of Alabam? Will I see the little churchhouse, where I pledged my heart and hand? Oh parson, tell me quickly, will my soul pass through the Southland? Was for loving dear old Dixie, in this dreary cell I lie Was for loving dear old Dixie, in this Northern State I die Will you see my little daughter, will you make her understand? Oh parson, tell me quickly, will my soul pass through the Southland? Then the Rebel Soldier died. An American Civil War (Confederate) version of Shall My Soul Pass Through Ireland Recorded by The Country Gentlemen JW oct97
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!