I
The morning star is paling,
The camp fires flicker low,
Our steeds are madly neighing
For the bugle bids us go;
So put the foot in stirrup,
And shake the bridle free,
For today the Texas Rangers
Must cross the Tennessee!
With Wharton for our leader,
We'll chase the dastard foe,
Till our horses bathe their fetlocks
In the deep blue Ohio.
II
Our men come from the prairies
Rolling broad, and proud, and free,
From the high and craggy mountains,
To the murmuring Mexic sea;
And their hearts are open as their plains,
Their thoughts are proudly brave
As the bold cliffs of the San Bernard,
Or the Gulf's resistless wave.
Then quick into the saddle,
And shake the bridle free,
Today with gallant Wharton,
We cross the Tennessee.
III
'Tis joy to be a Ranger;
To fight for dear Southland;
'Tis joy to follow Wharton,
With his gallant, trusty band;
'Tis joy to see our Harrison
Plunge, like a meteor bright,
Into the thickest of the fray,
And strike with dreadful might.
Oh! who would not be a Ranger,
And follow Wharton's cry,
To battle for their country-
And if it need be- die!
IV
Up with the crimson battle-flag!
Let the blue pennon fly!
Our steeds are stamping proudly,
They hear the battle-cry.
The thundering bomb, the bugle's call,
Proclaim the foe is near,
We strike for God and native land,
And all we hold most dear.
Then spring into the saddle,
And shake the bridle free-
For Wharton leads thro' fire and blood,
For Home and Victory!