(A ringing rifle volley is heard)
Volley fire! That’s what you hear!
And that means more than a picket brush!
Turn your head away from the rear
And set yourself for their first rush!
(Load your guns, if you know how,
With your fingers stiff with fright!
Northern boys from yard and mow,
Southern boys from field and plow,
God forbid, your time is now!)