Before either sabre or ball;
We would beat back the foeman before us,
Or dead on the battle-field fall.
“Fine words, you may say, but we meant them;
And so when they came up the hill
We poured on them volley on volley,
And riddled their ranks with a will.
Their line in a moment was broken;
They closed it, and came with a cheer;
But still we fired quickly and deadly,