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(Bob Coltman)

We came down here with our boots on our feet
We lost them somewhere midst the snow and the sleet
Pennsylvania winter is the worse kind of cold
What's left of your body won't comfort your soul

Oh, don't you think we should beat the drum
Or raise some kind of row
Ain't this glorious war
Fell on hard times now

Don't shake old Charlie, for he's past shaking
Takes angels on high to raise his kind of bacon
Haul out the meat wagon if you've horses to pull
We've dead enough here to fill it up full

When generals die, as I've heard that they do
Takes angels of high to pull them all through
But when privates die, you know very well
They get to go straight from Valley Forge on down to Hell

To live I'm too cold, to die I'm too young
It's a short life to be over and done
I wonder is this the last winter that I'll ever see
Well I don't care for no God who don't care for me

filename[ VALFORGE
Copyright Bob Coltman
sung by Barton and Para on Boonslick and Hickerson on Dull Care
@war @death @soldier

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