The fearful [bad word] s ended now and peace smiles on 
our land,
And though we've yielded we have proved ourselves a 
faithful band.
We fought them long, we fought them well, we fought 
them night and day,
And bravely [bad word] for our rights while wearing of 
the gray.

And now that we have ceased to fight and pledged our 
sacred word,
That we against the Union's might no more will draw the 
sword,
We feel despite the sneers of those who never smelt the 
fray,
That we've a manly, honest right to wearing of the 
gray.

Our cause is lost the more we fight 'gainst 
o'erwhelming power,
All wearied are our limbs and drenched with many a 
battle shower.
We feign we rest for want of strength in yielding up 
the day,
And lower the flag so proudly born while wearing of the 
gray.

Defeat is not dishonor, our honor not bereft,
We thank God that in our hearts this priceless boon was 
left.
And though we weep just for those braves who stood in 
proud array,
Beneath our flag and nobly died while wearing of the 
gray.

When in the ranks of war we stood and faced the deadly 
hail,
Our simple suits of [bad word] our only coats of 
mail.
And on the awful hours that marked the bloody battle 
day,
In memories we'll still be seen wearing of the gray.

Oh! should we reach that glorious place where waits a 
sparklin' crown,
For everyone who for the right his soldier life lay 
down.
God grant to us the privilege upon that happy day,
Of claspin' hands with those who fell while wearing of 
the gray.