When our nation tore apart and war began to rage

Golden-hearted angels flew across the battle stage,

Inside the homes and churches, with their tattered carpet bags

Dispensing tender mercies, beneath the yellow flags.

Beneath the yellow flags in that brutal Civil War

The uniforms of battle didn’t matter anymore,

When cloth of blue or gray turned to crimson-coated rags

The battlefield angels worked beneath the yellow flags.

After pills were given and the bandages applied

Battle-weary angels prayed for souls of men who died,

Then smiled away their teardrops, though their spirits often sagged

And sang away the sorrow, beneath the yellow flags.

As two wounded men would heal, one blue and one in gray

Each would shake the other’s hand, then head his separate way.

Beneath the yellow flags in that brutal Civil War

The uniforms of battle didn’t matter anymore,

When cloth of blue or gray turned to crimson-coated rags

The battlefield angels worked beneath the yellow flags.