Old Albert Woolson is dead and gone,

Gone and went and died is he.

Lived for a hundred and nine long years,

Fighting for this great country.

Run, boys, run.

Grab up a gun.

We won't get far

Without the G.A.R.

Old Abe Lincoln was a merry old soul.

The Union we must save,

But I can't save it without Al's help,

Al Woolson young and brave."

U.S. Grant was a merry old soul

As he sent Al Woolson on his way.

If it takes a hundred and nine long years,

Kill off the boys in gray."

At Shiloh his pop got wounded and dead

For fighting in the infantry.

I'll more than even up with Johnny Reb,

In the volunteer artillery."

He fought 'em, he fit, 'em, shot 'em and hit 'em,

In the was called the Civil War,

All the way from Shiloh to Gettysburg

To Appomattox Court House door.

At the age of a hundred and nine long years

They laid Albert Woolson by,

With nine hundred bugles to sound out taps,

And a cross of jets in the sky.

But Al Woolson's soul goes marching on.

I'm the last of the boys in blue.

As long as rebels are above the ground,

I know what I got to do."

From Maine to the Mason and Dixon

Cape Cod to the western sea,

The North is in peril, the Union will fall,

Unless you rally round me."

Run, boys, run.

Grab up a gun.

We won't get far

Without the G.A.R