SEMINOLE WAR SONG.
———
BY WM. H. C. HOSMER.
———
Fire, famine, and slaughter,
Have wasted our band—
Our life-blood like water
Has moistened the land;
But truly our rifles
The bullet will speed,
While an arm can be lifted—
One bosom can bleed.
The raven is croaking
A dirge for the slain—
Our cabins lie smoking
On prairie and plain;
But paths we will follow
To carnage that lead,
While an arm can be lifted—
One bosom can bleed.
Our old men lie mangled
By wild-wolf and bear;
Our babes we have strangled—
Dread act of despair;
And vengeance will nerve us
To desperate deed,
While an arm can be lifted—
One bosom can bleed.
Pale robbers are swarming
In hammock and vale;
Their squadrons are forming
With flags on the gale;
We dread not their footmen,
Armed rider and steed,
While an arm can be lifted—
One bosom can bleed.