Buried in a field of crossesnThe ghost of an American sonnSeventeen at Vicksburg when he heardnThe thunder of the gunsnnAnd his friends were all there with himnWhen they laid him beneath the frostnThe preacher said, The brotherhood of battlenIs always greater then the causennNightmare of blastin' lightnAshes in the windnI couldn't find him to say goodbyenHe was my only friendnnAll the kinfolk met the trainnThat carried Luther LanenI had a few in his namenI got good and drunk for Luther LanennSix white horses pulled the carriagenThe band played 'Nearer My God to Thee'nAnd all the children were starin', LuthernAt the missing part of mennI got an all of a sudden taste for whiskeynAs I was cold and it was gettin' latenI know I shouldn't have done itnBut I nicked a buck off the collection platennGendarme, he grabbed my armnAnd dragged me off to jailnI'm sittin' here one-legged, LuthernI know you woulda posted bailnnAll the kinfolk met the trainnThat carried Luther LanenI had a few in his namennYou sure did make it toughnFor Job and me, my LordnTwo bodies fell as one nCasualty of warnnI shoulda gone down undernThe ground with all the corpsnWhen you've survived enoughnIt's not enough for some, Lord I knownnAll the kinfolk met the trainnThat carried Luther LanenI had a few in his namenI got good and drunk for ol' Luther LanennFor ol' Luther LanenOl' Luther LanenFor Ol' Luther Lane