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138 CA VALR Y-S ONG.
No breeze shakes the blossoms or tosses the grain ; But the wind of our speed floats the walloper's
mane, As he feels the bold rider's firm hand on the rein.
Lo ! dim in the starlight, their white tents appear! Ride softly ! ride slowly ! the onset is near ! More slowly ! more softly ! the sentry may hear !
Now, fall on the Rebel — a tempest of flame! Strike down the false banner whose triumph were
shame ! Strike, strike for the true flag, for Freedom, and
Hurrah ! sheathe your swords! the carnage is done. All red with our valor, we welcome the sun. Up, up with the stars! we have won! we have won !