See the black wagon rolling along stop just outside our door. Heard my mother crying a mournful sound, Billy, don't play the banjo any more.
Pockets full of money, bells on his chest, when they brought brother Billy home from the war. They said he was a hero, braver than all the rest, Billy won't play the banjo any more.
In my heart I can hear his banjo ringing, but my mind can only hear the canon roar. Can't help thinking: "War is a shameful thing." Billy don't play the banjo any more. Billy don't play the banjo any more.