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"Surrender, now, my pretty pair; and do it quickly too, Stop at once and turn your mare, or I will run you through."
They stopp'd at once, and faced about and to the rear did
start; And back they came, with legs quite lame, with faint and
sinking* heart: And there they saw a crowd who were gobbled up that
day— They were the twain that made seventeen, and we were
Words by Laura Lorrimer. Music by J. W. Groschel.
Over vale and over mountain
Pealing forth in triumph strong, Comes a loftv swell of music,
Alabama's greeting song. In the new-born arch of glory,
So, she burns, the central star, Never shame shall blight its grandeur,
Never cloud its radiance mar.
Listen, Southrons, to the strain, Alabama, Alabama, Shout the rallying cry again.