A Picture of Three Children

When that three day battle ended, one man in blue was found
With no name to tell his story, as they laid him in the ground
Just one more unknown soldier, but held tightly to his chest
Was a picture of three children, dressed in their Sunday best.
They pried it from his cold fingers, clutched tightly in his grasp
Knowing it was the last thing, he’d seen before he passed
The story of that picture, traveled farther north each day
Where all the local papers, described on their front page.
A picture of three children, in three little wooden chairs
Two brothers and one sister, sweet faces and dark hair
Three angels to one soldier, whose name remains unknown
A picture of three children, whose father won’t be coming home.
In New York a wife and mother, was waiting for some word
From the father of her children, last seen in Gettysburg
When she read about that picture, found on a Union man
And knew her husband Amos, had held tightly in his hand.
A picture of three children, in three little wooden chairs
Two brothers and one sister, sweet faces and dark hair
Three angels to one soldier, whose name was finally known
A picture of three children, whose father won’t be coming home.
It was a picture of three children, Amos won’t be coming home.