We are coming Father Abraam, three hundred thousand more.
From Missisipi's winding stream and from New England shore; We leave our plows and Workshps our wives and cildren dear, With hearts too full for utterance with but a silent tear; We dare not look behind us but steadfastly before, We are coming Father Abraam with three hundred thousand more.
We are coming, coming our Union to restore.
We are coming Father Abraam with three hundred thousand more.
If you look across the hilltops that meet the northern sky, Long moving lines of rising dust your vision may descry.
And mow the wind, and instant, tears the cloudy veil of aside, And floats aloft our spangled flag in glory and in pride; And bayonets in the sun gleam, and bands brave music pour.
We are coming Father Abraam with three hundred thousand more.
We are coming, coming our Union to restore.
We are coming Father Abraam with three hundred thousand more.

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