They died in three's and four's, quick as a wink,

Even before they knew what was before 'em.

They came young, middle aged and old.

They lay there cold, even before they knew what was before 'em.

The Sergeant yelled, "Left, right, left, right! Left turn march!", and brought them right into the Line of Fire.

A little while earlier they were singing a happy marching song.

Now they were dying and the song still rang in their soon to be dead ears that were a ringin'.

They died in three's and four's and nobody knew there names.

Maybe it was Murphy, Williams or Jones or maybe not, nobody was going to go back to find out, that's for sure.

"For the Union!, the Union!", someone shouted out, and another three or four were added to the score,

Smack!, smack!, the bullets tore them apart,

A young drummer boy was lucky and got it right through the heart.

"Charge!, Charge!", the Captain waved his sword and his arm blew off and he fell off his horse and hit the ground with a might thud, where he saw his arm a layen'.

They ran forward, into the smoke and fire, yelling and screaming and scared to hell!

Smack!, smack!, all around them, body parts flying in the air.

Yelling, screaming and never seeing who took their lives away.

They died in three's and four's, quick as a wink, even before they knew what was before 'em'.

"For the Union!, for the Union!", the Officer shouted loudly and like good soldiers they followed the others right into the hollowed graves left open for 'em.