1. S O N G : JOHN BROWN´S BODY John Brown´s body lies a mould rin in the grave, John Brown´s body lies a mould rin in the grave, John Brown´s body lies a mould rin in the grave, but his soul goes marching on. Glory, glory, hallelujah. Glory, glory, hallelujah. Glory, glory, hallelujah. But his soul goes marching on. John Brown died that the slave might be free, John Brown died that the slave might be free, John Brown died the slave might be free. And his soul is marching on. Well, he´s gone to be a soldier in the army of the Lord, well he´s gone to be a soldier in the army of the Lord, well, he´s gone to be a soldier in the army of the Lord. But his soul goes marching on. The stars of heaven are looking kindly down, the stars of heaven are looking kindly down, the stars of heaven are looking kindly down. And his soul is marching on. GEE, BUT I WANT TO GO HOME 1- The coffee that they give you, they say is mightyfine; it´s good for cuts and bruises and tastes like i-o-dine; I don´t want no more of army life, gee, but I want to go home. 2- The clothes that they give you they say are might fine, but me and my buddy can both fit into mine.. 3- The chickens they give you thay say are mighty fine; one jumped off the table and it started marking time. 4- The biscuits that they give you they say are mighty fine; one rolled off a table and killed a pal of mine. 5- The details they give you they say are mighty fine; the garbage that we pick up they feed us all the time. THE YELLOW ROSE OF TEXAS There´s a yellow rose of Texas, that I am going to see. No other soldier knows her, no soldier on lyme; She cried so when I left her, it like to broke my heart, and if I ever find her, we never more will part. She´s the sweet estrose of color this soldier ever knew. Her eyes are bright as diamons, they sparkle like the dew; you may talk about your dearest May and sign of Rosa Lee. But the yellow Rose of Texas beats the belles of Tennessee. Where the Rio Grande is flowing, and the starry skies are bright, she walks along the river in the quiet summer night; she thinks if I remember, when we parted long ago, I promised to come back again, and not to leave her go. Oh, now I´m going to find her, for my heart is full of woe. And we´ll sing the song together, that we sung so long ago; we´ll play the banjo gaily, and we´ll sing the songs of yore. And the yellow rose of Texas shall be mine for ever more. And now I´m going southward, for my heart is full of woe, I´m going back to Georgia, to find my uncle Joe. You may talk about your dearest May, and sing of rosalie, but the galliant hood of Texas played hell in Tennessee.