The forests are green by the homes of the South,
But the hearth-stones are red with the blood of her youth;
Unfurl the black banner o’er mountain and vale,
Let the war-cry of vengeance swell loud on the gale.
Then gather, gather, gather, gather, gather;
While there’s leaf in the forest, and foam on the river,
The cry of the South shall be Vengeance Forever!
Each drop of the blood of our children they’ve shed,
Our foes shall atone for, in heaps of their dead;
The signal for fight which our forefathers knew,
Shall be heard in their midst in our vengeful halloo.
Then gather, gather, etc.
Thro’ their cities our horsemen, with sword and with flame,
Shall carry the dread of the Southerner’s name!
At the sound of our bugles their strong men shall quail,
And the cheeks of their wives and their mothers turn pale.
Then gather, gather, etc.
They have blasted our fields, they have slaughtered our youth,
And dishonored the names of the maids of the South;
But the rivers shall dry, and the mountains be riven,
Ere vengeance be quenched or our wrongs be forgiven.
Then gather, gather, etc.
Then rally from forest and rally from ford,
Give their homes to the flames, and their sons to the sword;
While a child shall be born in the South, let its cry
Be, “Death to the Northmen, and vengeance for aye!”
Greenville, Ala., Observer. |