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Home  »  The American National Song-Book  »  Frederick William Thomas (1806–1866)

William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.

War Song of Seventy-Six

Frederick William Thomas (1806–1866)

FREEMEN! arise, and keep your vow!

The foe are on our shore,

And we must win our freedom now,

Or yield forevermore.

The share will make a goodly glaive—

Then tear it from the plough!

Lingers there here a crouching slave?

Depart, a recreant thou!

Depart, and leave the field to those

Determined to be free,

Who burn to meet their vaunting foes

And strike for liberty.

Why did the pilgrim cross the wave?

Say, was he not your sire?

And shall the liberty he gave

Upon his grave expire?

The stormy wave could not appal;

Nor where the savage trod;

He braved them all, and conquer’d all,

For freedom and for God.

We fight for fireside and for home,

For heritage, for altar;

And, by the God of yon blue dome,

Not one of us shall falter?

We’ll guard them, though the foeman stood

Like sand-grains on our shore,

And raise our angry battle-flood,

And whelm the despots o’er.

We’ve drawn the sword, and shrined the sheath

Upon our fathers’ tomb;

And when the foe shall sleep in death,

We’ll sheath it o’er their doom.

Firm be your step, steady your file,

Unbroken your array:

The spirits of the blest shall smile

Upon our deeds to-day.

Unfurl the banner of the free

Amidst the battle’s cloud;

Its folds shall wave to Liberty,

Or be to us a shroud.

O’er those who fall, the soldier’s tear

Exulting shall be shed;

We’ll bear them upon honour’s bier,

To sleep in honour’s bed.

The maiden, with her hurried breath

And rapture-beaming eye,

Shall all forget the field of death

To bless the victory.

The child, O! he will bless his sire,

The mother bless her son,

And God, He will not frown in ire,

When such a field is won.