I. By the sword of St. Michael The old dragon through; By David his sling And the giant he slew; Let us write us a rhyme, As a record to tell How the South on a time Stormed the ramparts of Hell With her barefooted boys! II. Had the South in her border A hero to spare, Or a heart at her altar, Lo! its life's blood was there! And the black battle-grime Might never disguise The smile of the South On the lips and the eyes Of her barefooted boys! III. There's a grandeur in fight, And a terror the while, But none like the light Of that terrible smile -- The smile of the South, When the storm-cloud unrolls The lightening that loosens The wrath in the souls Of her barefooted boys! IV. It withered the foe Like the red light that runs Through the dead forest leaves, And he fled from his guns! Grew the smile to a laugh, Rose the laugh to a yell. As the iron-clad hoofs Clattered back into Hell From our barefooted boys!

Soldier Life

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Last modified 18-April-2001