Bob Roebuck is my sweetheart's name,
He's off to the wars and gone;
He's fighting for his Nanny dear,
His sword is buckled on, 
He's fighting for his own [bad word] love;
His foes he does defy;
He is the darling of my heart,
My Southern soldier boy.

When [bad word] home from war's alarms,
We'll start anew in life;
I'll give myself right up to him,
dutiful, loving wife.
I'll try my best to please my dear,
For he is my only joy,
He is the darling of my heart, 
My Southern soldier boy. 

Oh, if in battle he were slain,
I know that I would die,
But I am sure [bad word] again
To cheer my weeping eye. 
But should he fall in this our glorious cause,
He still would be my joy,
For many a sweetheart mourns the loss
Of her Southern soldier boy. 

I hope for the best, and so do all
Whose hopes are in the field;
I know that we shall win the day
For Southrons never yield. 
And when we think of those who are away,
We look above for joy,
And I'm mighty glad that my Bobby is
Southern soldier boy.