Now round that gallant leader
Your iron phalanx form,
And throw, like Ocean's barrier rocks,
Your bosoms to the storm.
Though wild as Ocean's wave it rolls,
Its fury shall be low,
For justice guides the warrior's steel,
And vengeance strikes the blow.
High o'er the gleaming columns,
The bannered star appears,
And proud amid its martial band,
His crest the eagle rears.
And long as patriot valor's arm
Shall win the battle's prize,
That star shall beam triumphantly,
That eagle seek the skies.
Then on, ye daring spirits,
To danger's tumults now,
The bowl is filled and wreathed the crown,
To grace the victor's brow;
And they who for their country die,
Shall fill an honored grave;
For glory lights the soldier's tomb,
And beauty weeps the brave.
Joseph Rodman Drake.
Prominent among the forces under Jackson was a brigade of eight hundred Kentucky riflemen, commanded by General John Coffee. They had marched eight hundred miles through a wilderness, having covered the last hundred miles in less than two days—a march almost unequalled in history. Jackson spoke of this brigade as the right arm of his army.
THE HUNTERS OF KENTUCKY
Ye gentlemen and ladies fair,
Who grace this famous city,
Just listen, if you've time to spare,
While I rehearse a ditty;
And for the opportunity
Conceive yourselves quite lucky,
For 'tis but seldom that you see
A hunter from Kentucky.
Oh! Kentucky,
The hunters of Kentucky.
We are a hardy free-born race,
Each man to fear a stranger;
Whate'er the game, we join in chase,
Despising toil and danger:
And if a daring foe annoys,
Whate'er his strength or force is,
We'll show him that Kentucky boys
Are Alligator-horses.
I s'pose you've read it in the prints,
How Pakenham attempted
To make old Hickory Jackson wince,
But soon his schemes repented;
For we, with rifles ready cock'd,
Thought such occasion lucky,
And soon around the general flock'd
The hunters of Kentucky.
I s'pose you've heard how New Orleans
Is famed for wealth and beauty;
They've gals of every hue, it seems,
From snowy white to sooty:
So Pakenham he made his brags
If he in fight was lucky,
He'd have their gals and cotton bags,
In spite of Old Kentucky.