Or, with Mother's Day upon us, Tramp, Tramp, Tramp

In my prison cell I sit, thinking, Mother dear, of you
and our bright and happy home so far away,
And the tears, they fill my eyes, spite of all that I can do,
Though I try to cheer my comrades and be gay.

Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching

Cheer up, comrades, they will come,

And beneath the starry flag we will breathe the air again

Of the free land in our own beloved home.

Of course, "comrade" and "gay" may need glosses.

Liland

PS The tune is identical with "Jesus loves the little children", or at least as similar as JB's Body and the BHotR.