In the prison cell I sit, thinking Mother, dear, of you,
And our bright and happy home so far away,
And the tears, they fill my eyes 'spite of all that I can do,
Tho' I try to cheer my comrades and be gay.

In the battle front we stood, when their fiercest charge they made,
And they swept us off a hundred men or more,
But before we reached their lines, they were beaten back dismayed,
And we heard the cry of vict'ry o'er and o'er.

So within the prison cell we are waiting for the day,
That shall come to open wide the iron door.
And the hollow eye grows bright, and the poor heart almost gay,
As we think of seeing home and friends once more.