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'.