Lee Ann Womack - The legend of the rebel soldier

In a ^Gdreary Yankee prison Where a Rebel soldier ^Dlay ^DBy his side there stood a preacher ‘Ere his soul should pass a^Gway

As he clutched him by the ^Dhand ^D“Oh Parson, tell me quickly, Will my soul pass through the ^GSouthland?”

^G“Will my soul pass through the Southland, Through old Virginia ^Dgrand ^DWill I see the hills of Georgia And the green fields of Ala-^Gbam?”

^G“Will I see that little church house Where I pledged my heart and ^Dhand ^DOh Parson, tell me quickly, Will my soul pass through the ^GSouthland?”

^G“Was for lovin’, dear old Dixie In this dreary cell I ^Dlie ^DWas for lovin’, dear old Dixie In this northern state I ^Gdie.” ^G“Will you see my little daughter? Will you make her under^Dstand? ^DOh Parson, tell me quickly, Will my soul pass through the ^GSouthland?”

With h^Gis soul pure as a lily And his body sancti^Dfied In that ^Ddreary yankee prison The brave rebel soldi^Ger died Then the^G parson looked up to heaven And in blessing raised h^Dis hand Father ^Dgrant this soldier’s wishes May his soul pass through the ^GSouthland