Lincoln's Funeral Train

On the twenty-first of April, eighteen and sixty-five
Three-thirty-one left Washington for Lincoln's last train ride
The cannons boomed, the bonfires burned
The evergreens wore grey
Three-thirty-one in the morning sun
The hearse, that journey made

See that train coming, boys
Rolling down the main
Draped in black, she won't be back
It's Lincoln's funeral train
With the portrait of a martyred man shot down by a traitor
Now toll the bell and bid farewell to the great emancipator

Crowd's jam the streets for a final look
At the great man who had stood
At the country's helm through the bitter war
That seemed of little good
Felled by the bullet of John Wilkes Booth
As the battle died away
His guiding spirit to reconcile by absence brought dismay

See that train coming, boys
Rolling down the main
Draped in black, she won't be back
It's Lincoln's funeral train
With the portrait of a martyred man shot down by a traitor
Now toll the bell and bid farewell to the great emancipator

See that train coming, boys
Rolling down the main
Draped in black, she won't be back
It's Lincoln's funeral train
With the portrait of a martyred man shot down by a traitor
Now toll the bell and bid farewell to the great emancipator
Now toll the bell and bid farewell to the great emancipator