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The ambulanza slowly passing, trailing its red drip,
Workmen searching after damages, making
indispensable repairs,
The fall of grenades through the rent roof—the
fan-shaped explosion,
The whizz of limbs, heads, stone, wood, iron, high in
the air.

221.Again gurgles the mouth of my dying general—he
furiously waves with his hand,
He gasps through the clot, Mind not me—mind—
the entrenchments.

222.I tell not the fall of Alamo,
Not one escaped to tell the fall of Alamo,
The hundred and fifty are dumb yet at Alamo.
 
223.Hear now the tale of the murder in cold blood of four
hundred and twelve young men.

224.Retreating, they had formed in a hollow square, with
their baggage for breastworks,
Nine hundred lives out of the surrounding enemy's,
nine times their number, was the price they took
in advance,
Their colonel was wounded and their ammunition
gone,
They treated for an honorable capitulation, received
writing and seal, gave up their arms, and
marched back prisoners of war.

225.They were the glory of the race of rangers,
Matchless with horse, rifle, song, supper, courtship,