(R. Cook; R. Greeneway)
Today I killed a man I didn't know
I held my rifle high and shot him low
I'd like to think he really was to blame
Well I never knew or never will his name
I guess that someone, somewhere knew him well
And they'll cry when they're told that he has fell
But it's hard for me to think of him as good
'Cause he'd done me just the same if he could
Oh mother, oh mama, I'm so cold
And I feel like I am quickly growing old
So I hope you are thinking of your son
'Cause tomorrow morning I'll be twenty-one
Oh Johnny Ray, Johnny Ray, oh, he don't worry now
He don't wonder how
Today my sergeant told me I've done well
That I'd sent another Southern boy to hell
But I can't help wondering about the lost of life
And if that rebel soldier had a wife
Oh mama, oh mam, I'm so cold
And the good book doesn't help me like you told
'Cause it don't tell me if I'm right or wrong
Or when this war will end, just how long
Oh mama, oh mama, I'm so cold
And I feel I am quickly growing old
So I hope that you are thinking of your son
'Cause tomorrow morning I'll be twenty-one