Sons of the South awake to glory,
A thousand voices bid you rise,
Your children, wives and grandsires hoary,
Gaze on you now with trusting eyes,
Gaze on you now with trusting eyes;
Your country ev’ry strong arm calling,
To meet the hireling Northern band
That comes to desolate the land
With fire and blood and scenes appalling,
To arms, to arms, ye brave;
Th’ avenging sword unsheath!
March on! March on! All hearts resolved on victory or death.
March on! March on! All hearts resolved on victory or death.
Now, now, the dang’rous storm is rolling,
Which treacherous brothers madly raise,
The dogs of war let loose, are howling
And soon our peaceful towns may blaze,
And soon our peaceful towns may blaze.
Shall fiends who basely plot our ruin,
Unchecked, advance with guilty stride
To spread destruction far and wide,
With Southrons’ blood their hands embruing?
To arms, to arms, ye brave!
Th’ avenging sword unsheath!
March on! March on! All hearts resolved on victory or death,
March on! March on! All hearts resolved on victory or death.
With needy, starving mobs surrounded,
The jealous, blind fanatics dare
To offer, in their zeal unbounded,
Our happy slaves their tender care,
Our happy slaves their tender care.
The South, though deepest wrongs bewailing,
Long yielded all to Union name;
But Independence now we claim,
And all their threats are unavailing.
To arms, to arms, ye brave!
Th’ avenging sword unsheath!
March on! March on! All hearts resolved on victory or death,
March on! March on! All hearts resolved on victory or death. |