Текст песни
Brother on brother lying in the fields
Only the devil is keeping score
You blonde haired boys are scattered on these hills
Picked clean like cotton in a rich man's war
Lay down your holy irons
Lay down your guns and shining bayonets
Lay down your holy irons
It's gonna be a job to raise the dead
Got no mansion on yonder mound
No plantation pillars on white
Just a southern boy behind a plow
Swept up like nothing in a poor man's fight
Lay down your holy irons
Lay down your guns and shining bayonets
Lay down your holy irons
It's gonna be a job to raise the dead
Farewell Cordelia, let me hold you close
So I can remember how it feels
And if a bullet brings me down before I make it home
You know that I'll be dreaming of you still
Yes I will
When our soldiers are in blue and gray
Every one of us are bleeding red
When this broken body falls on its way
We'll all lay down in the same earthen bed
Lay down your holy irons
Lay down your guns and shining bayonets
Lay down your holy irons
It's gonna be a job to raise the dead
Lay down your holy irons
Lay down your guns and shining bayonets
The broken hearted Lord can only wring his hands
It's gonna be a job to raise the dead