And up among the fallen pines we heard their rifles crack;
Hi!—the three-year vet'rans stormed
While the skirmish lines were formed
At the snub-nosed little carbines that they couldn't fire back!
And the horses, standing there
With their noses in the air—
How they kicked and raised the devil down among the tangled trees!
They didn't mind the shooting,
But they'd try to go a-scooting
When they got a whiff of redskin on the chilly mountain breeze.