In A Dreary Yankee Prison Where A Rebel Soldier Lay By His Side There Stood A Preacher 'Ere His Soul Should Pass Away And He Faintly Whispered "Parson" As He Clutched Him By The Hand "Oh Parson Tell Me Quickly Will My Soul Pass Through The Southland?" "Will My Soul Pass Through The Southland? Through Old Virginia Grand? Will I See The Hills Of Georgia? And The Green Fields Of Alabama? Will I See That Little Church House? Where I Pledged My Heart And Hand? Oh Parson Tell Me Quickly Will My Soul Pass Through The Southland?" "Was For Loving Dear Old Dixie In This Dreary Cell I Lie Was For Loving Dear Old Dixie In This Northern State I Die Will You See My Little Daughter? Will You Make Her Understand? Oh Parson Tell Me Quickly Will My Soul Pass Through The Southland?" Then The Rebel Soldier Died