Free bridle bit, good gallant steed, That will not ask a kind caress To swim the Santee at our need, When on his heels the foemen press, The true heart and the ready hand, The spirit stubborn to be free, The twisted bore, the smiting brand, And we are Marion s men, you see. Now light the fire and cook the meal, The last, perhaps, that we shall taste; I hear the Swamp Fox round us steal, And that s a sign we move in haste. He whistles to the scouts, and hark! You hear his order calm and low. Come, wave your torch across the dark, And let us see the boys that go. We may not see their forms again, God help em, should they find the strife! For they are strong and fearless men, And make no coward terms for life; They'll fight as long as Marion bids, And when he speaks the word to shy, Then, not till then, they turn their steeds, Through thickening shade and swamp to fly Now stir the fire anjd lie at ease, The scouts are gone, and on the brush I see the Colonel bend his knees, To take his slumbers too. But hush!
