Luther Lane

Buried in a field of crosses
The ghost of an American son
Seventeen at Vicksburg
When he heard the thunder of the guns
And his friends were all there with him
When they laid him beneath the frost
The preacher said: «The brotherhood of battle
Is always greater than the cause»
Nightmare of blastin' light, ashes in the wind
I couldn’t find him to say goodbye; he was my only friend
All the kinfolk met the train
That carried Luther Lane
I had a few in his name
I got good and drunk for Luther Lane
Six white horses pulled the carriage
The band played «Nearer my God to Thee»
And all the children were starin', Luther
At the missing part of me
I got an all of a sudden taste for whiskey
As I was cold and it was gettin' late
I know I shouldn’t have done it
But I nicked a buck off the collection plate
Gendarme he grabbed my arm and dragged me off to jail
I’m sittin' here one-legged Luther, I know you woulda posted bail
All the kinfolk met the train
That carried Luther Lane
I had a few in his name
You sure did make it tough for Job and me, my Lord
Two bodies fell as one casualty of war
I shoulda gone down under the ground with all the corps
When you’ve survived enough it’s not enough for some
Lord I know
All the kinfolk met the train
That carried Luther Lane
I had a few in his name
I got good and drunk for Luther Lane
For old Luther Lane
For old Luther Lane
Old Luther Lane