How they pranced along the column as the bugles blew the "Trot!"
They might weaken and go lame,
But they'd never quit the game,
And they'd bring us back in safety if they weren't left to rot.
When there came a sudden tack
In the travois' dusty track
And we knew the reds were headin' for the timber and the rocks,
With the infantry and trains
Thirty miles back on the plains,
Then the horses were the boys that got the knocks.