On the twenty-first of April, eighteen and sixty-five Three-thirty-one left Washington for Lincoln's last train ride The cannons boomed, the bonfires burned The evergreens wore grey Three-thirty-one in the morning sun The hearse, that journey made See that train coming, boys Rolling down the main Draped in black, she won't be back It's Lincoln's funeral train With the portrait of a martyred man shot down by a traitor Now toll the bell and bid farewell to the great emancipator Crowd's jam the streets for a final look At the great man who had stood At the country's helm through the bitter war That seemed of little good Felled by the bullet of John Wilkes Booth As the battle died away His guiding spirit to reconcile by absence brought dismay See that train coming, boys Rolling down the main Draped in black, she won't be back It's Lincoln's funeral train With the portrait of a martyred man shot down by a traitor Now toll the bell and bid farewell to the great emancipator See that train coming, boys Rolling down the main Draped in black, she won't be back It's Lincoln's funeral train With the portrait of a martyred man shot down by a traitor Now toll the bell and bid farewell to the great emancipator Now toll the bell and bid farewell to the great emancipator