"Mother, Can I Go?" 
(c1863; filed 11 Jan 1864; copyright library 5 Aug 1865; 
No. 1136; 28490; M1640.W]
Ballad
Music/Composed by Joseph Philbrick Webster. 1819-1875

Chicago: H. M. HIGGINS, 117 Randolph St.
[Source: 200002228@LoC/IHAS-CWM]

   A young man from Lyme, Ct. employed
in New York, wrote to his mother for per-
mission to enlist.  He now belongs to the Signal
Corps in the Tenth Connecticut Regiment,
with Gen. Burnside's Expedition.  A friend
in New York has thus beautifully put his re-
quest into verse.

1. 
I am writing to you, mother, know ing well what you will say, 
When you read with tearful fondness what I write to you today; 
Knowing well the flame of ardor on a loyal mother’s part, 
That will kindle with each impulse, with each throbbing of your heart. 
I have heard my country’s calling, for her sons that still are true, 
I have loved that country, mother, only next to God and you; 
And my soul is springing forward to resist her bitter foe; 
Can I go, my dearest mother, tell me, mother, can I go?

2. 
From the battered walls of Sumpter, from the wild waves of the sea,
I have heard her cry for succur, as the voice of God to me;
In prosperity I loved her— in her days of dark distress,
With your spirit in me, mother, could I love that country less?
They have pierced her heart with treason, they have caused her sons to bleed,
They have rubbed her in her kindness, they have triumphed in her need;
They have trampled on her standard, and she calls me in her woe;
Can I go, my dearest mother, tell me, mother, can I go?

3. 
I am young and slender, mother,— they would call me yet a boy,
But I know the land I live in, and the blessings I enjoy;
I am old enough, my mother, in her loyal, proud and true
To the faithful sense of duty I have ever learned from you.
We must conquer this rebellion; let the doubting heart be still;
We must conquer it or perish, we must conquer, and we will!
But the faithful must not falter, and shall I be wanting?— No!
But me go, my dearest mother! tell me, mother, can I go?

4. 
He who led his chosen people, in their effort to be free
From the tyranny of Egypt, will be merciful to me;
Will protect me by His power, whatsoe’er I undertake;
Will return me home in safety dearest mother, for your sake.
Or should this my bleeding country need a victim such as me,
I am nothing more than others who have perished to be free,
On her bosom, let me slumber, on her altar let me lie;
I am not afraid, my mother, in so good a cause to die.

5. 
There will come a day of gladness, when the people of the Lord
Shall look proudly on their banner, which His mercy has restored;
When the stars in perfect number, on their azure field of blue,
Shall be clustered in a Union, then and ever firm and true.
I may live to see it, mother, when the patriot’s word is done,
And your heart, so full of kindness, will beat proudly for your son;
Or through tears your eyes may see it with a sadly thoughtful view,
And may love it still more dearly for the cost it won from you.

6. 
I have written to you mother, with a consciousness of right;
I am thinking of you fondly, with a loyal heart tonight;
When I have your noble bidding, which shall tell me to press on,
I will come and kiss you, mother,— come and kiss you and be gone.
In the sacred name of Freedom, and my country as her due—
In the name of Law and Justice, I have written this to you.
I am eager, anxious, longing to resist my country’s foe;
Shall I go, my dearest mother? tell me, mother, shall I go?