Oh, gayly sound the bugles shrill,
Adown the mountain-glen,
And loudly on the breezes thrill
The songs of loyal men!
Still marching on with iron tramp
To battle’s wild accords,
They point to vile Rebellion’s camp,
And clash their fathers’ swords!
Oh, proudly throbs each patriot’s heart,
When, thundering from afar,
O’er woodland-glen, or mountain-crest,
Upswells the loud hurrah!
While trumpet-peal and rattling drum,
And wild artillery’s roar,
Proclaim that Freedom’s soldiers come
As came their sires of yore.
16
Liberty.