Oh, tell me, what spirit sweeps over the land,
Uniting and rousing our numbers?
And why does the North in full panoply stand,
Like a giant aroused from long slumbers—
Like a giant aroused from long slumbers?
’Twas a cry for aid that o’er us swept,
They were murdering Kansas while we slept.
But the North will not always submit to a wrong;
Once roused from her sleep, she ne’er falters.
To Kansas, despite the whole South, shall belong