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