The voice that rang through Shiloh's woods
And Chickamauga's solitudes,
The fierce South cheering on her sons.
Ah, how the withering tempest blew
Against the front of Pettigrew!
A khamsin wind that scorched and singed,
Like that infernal flame that fringed
The British squares at Waterloo!
"Once more in Glory's van with me!"
Virginia cries to Tennessee,