Valley Forge (Bob Coltman) We came down here with our boots on our feet We lost them somewhere midst the snow and the sleet Pennsylvania winter is the worse kind of cold What's left of your body won't comfort your soul Oh, don't you think we should beat the drum Or raise some kind of row Ain't this glorious war Fell on hard times now Don't shake old Charlie, for he's past shaking Takes angels on high to raise his kind of bacon Haul out the meat wagon if you've horses to pull We've dead enough here to fill it up full When generals die, as I've heard that they do Takes angels of high to pull them all through But when privates die, you know very well They get to go straight from Valley Forge on down to Hell To live I'm too cold, to die I'm too young It's a short life to be over and done I wonder is this the last winter that I'll ever see Well I don't care for no God who don't care for me Copyright Bob Coltman sung by Barton and Para on Boonslick and Hickerson on Dull Care SOF
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