| One morning when the office had opened
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| A man quite old in years
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| Stood beside the express office
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| Showing signs of grief and tears
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| When the clerk approached him
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| His trembling words did say
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| 'I'm waiting for my boy, sir
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| He’s coming home today'
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| 'Well you have made a sad mistake
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| And you must surely know
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| That this is the telegraph office, sir
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| And not a town depot'
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| 'If your boy is coming home'
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| The clerk with a smile smile did say
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| 'You'll find him with the passengers, sir
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| At the station just all th way'
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| 'You do not understand me, sir'
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| The old man shook his had
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| 'He's not a-coming as a passenger
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| But by express instead'
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| 'He's coming home to mother'
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| The old man gently said
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| 'He's coming home in a casket, sir
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| He’s coming to us dead'
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| Just then a whistle pierced their ears
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| The express came on time
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| The old man rose in a breathless haste
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| And quickly rushed outside
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| And then a long white casket
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| Was lowered to the ground
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| Showing signs of grief and tears
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| To those who gathered around
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| 'Do not use him roughly, boys
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| It contains our darling Jack
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| He went away as you boys are
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| See how he’s coming back?'
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| 'He broke his poor old mother’s heart
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| Her sayings all came true
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| She said, this is the way that he’d come back
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| When he joined the boys in blue' |