作曲 : Traditional Song
 Come all ye valiant soldiers -- a story I will tell
 About the bloody battle that was fought on Shiloh Hill.
 It was an awful struggle that cause your blood to chill;
 All from the bloody battle that was fought on Shiloh Hill.
 'Twas on the sixth of April, about the break of day;
 The fifes and drums were playing for us to march away.
 The feeling of that moment I do remember still,
 When first my feet were tromping on the top of Shiloh Hill.
 About the hour of sunrise the battle first began;
 Before the day was ended, we fought 'em hand to hand.
 The horrors on that battle did my soul with anguish fill
 The wounded men and the dying that lay on Shiloh Hill.
 There were men from every nation laid on those bloody plains,
 There were fathers, sons, and brothers were numbered with the slain,
 The wounded men were crying for help from everywhere,
 And others who were dying and offering God their prayer,
 Very early the next morning we were called to arms again,
 Unmindful of the wounded and unuseful to the slain;
 The battle was renewed again, and ten thousand men were killed;
 And from their deadly wounds, the blood ran like a rill;
 And now my song is ended about those bloody plains;
 I hope the sight by mortal man may ne'er be seen again!
 I pray to God, my Saviour, "If consistent with his will,
 To save the souls of every men who fell on bloody Shiloh Hill."