Classic Poem

About the age of eighteen
I joined a jolly band;
We marched from San Antonio
Unto the Rio Grande.

Our Captain he informed us,
Because he thought it right;
— Before we reach the mountain, —
Says, — Boys, you will have to fight. —

We saw the Indians coming,
We heard them give the yell;
My feelings at that moment,
No human tongue can tell.

We saw their glittering lances,
And the bullets round me fell;
My heart it sank within me,
My courage almost failed.

One Redskin of that shouting band,
Up with his tomahawk,
He tried his best to sculp me,
But my sword cut off his hand.