Now, Freedom-Winds and Crying Guns
Bring Summer's pleasant weather;
The Magnol' Springs 'pon leafy wings, o' white!,
Throughout the bloomin' heather.
Now, Patr'ots dream, wild, toward the thing
That lights the weary Tyrant;
The moon shines bright, 's I patrol a' nigh';
It rest 'pon my weap'ns chamber.
Thus, 'n Liberty's time, may I find
The Savage an' the tender;
Some social join, an' Leagues combine;
Some, solitary, wander.
An' may the cold, cold steel of freely-wielded-rifles
Raze , lo, auld Tyrant's dominion;
The Sportsman's joy; the defense of Kin,
Makes worth, the gory muzzle.
But, Justice dear, the ev'ning's clear:
Swift as the skimmin' Starling.
The sky fades from blue; the Fire's in view,
All streamin', an' wild, an' yello'.