We have ridden from the brave Southwest,
On fiery steeds, with throbbing breast;
Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!
With sabre flash and rifle true,—
Hurrah! hurrah!—
The Northern ranks we will cut through,
And charge for old Virginia, boys;
Hurrah! hurrah!
We have come from the cloud-capp’d mountains,
From the land of purest fountains;
Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!
Our sweethearts and wives conjure us,—
Hurrah! hurrah!
Not to leave a foe before us,
And strike for old Virginia, boys;
Hurrah! hurrah!
Then we’ll rally to the bugle call;
For Southern rights we’ll fight and fall;
Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!
Our grey-haired sires sternly say,—
Hurrah! hurrah!
That we must die or win the day,
Three cheers for old Virginia, boys,
Hurrah! hurrah!
Then our silken banner wave on high;
For Southern homes we’ll fight and die;
Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!
Our cause is right, our quarrel just,—
Hurrah! hurrah!
We’ll in the God of battles trust,
And conquer for Virginia, boys,
Hurrah! hurrah! |