Their guns on their shoulders they gallantly bore.
The path of their fathers they fearlessly trod;
Their bosoms beat proudly, their trust was in God.
Their steps never faltered, their hearts never failed,
At the glance of the traitors their eye never quailed.
On the red field of glory they fought undismayed;
On the red field of glory their relics are laid.
Now chant we their requiem, mournful and slow,
In deep thrilling tones let its melody flow;
Ah! well may we tell of their triumphs with pride,