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Our flag, with its cluster of stars,
Firm fixed in a field of pure blue, All shining- through red and white bars,
Now gallantly flutters in view. The stalwart and brave round it rally,
They press to their lips every fold, While the hymn swells from hill and from valley,
"Be God with our Volunteers bold."
Chorus.
Th' invaders rush down from the North,
Our borders are black with their hordes; Like wolves for their victims they flock,
While whetting their knives and their swords. Their watchword is " Booty and Beauty,"
Their aim is to steal as they go ; But, Southrons, act up to your duty,
And lay the foul miscreants low.
Chorus.
The God of our fathers looks down
And blesses the cause of the just; His smile will the patriot crown
Who tramples his chains in the dust. March, March, Southrons! Shoulder to shoulder,
One heart-throb, one shout for the cause; Remember—the world's a beholder,
And your bayonets are fixed at your doors !
Chorus, j. J. H |
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