 | Areytos or songs and ballads of the South |  |
110
YE SONS OF CAROLINA.
Ye sons of Carolina,
Our Eutaw flag that bear,
And glory in a glorious name,
That knows not shame or fear;
The sacred trophy that ye keep,
The matchless names ye own,
Ever need that your deed
Shall not shame the triumphs known:
Shall not shrink from battle's raging fires,
Shall not shame the triumphs known.
Our Eutaw flag that bear,
And glory in a glorious name,
That knows not shame or fear;
The sacred trophy that ye keep,
The matchless names ye own,
Ever need that your deed
Shall not shame the triumphs known:
Shall not shrink from battle's raging fires,
Shall not shame the triumphs known.
The memories of battle
Should be living in your souls,
While the crimson plains of Eutaw rise,
And the stream of Ashley rolls;
On shores where gallant Moultrie fought,
Your hearts shall gather flame,
Which shall light, through the fight,
To as proud and pure a fame;
Though the storm of battle rages wild,
Which shall light ye still to fame!
Should be living in your souls,
While the crimson plains of Eutaw rise,
And the stream of Ashley rolls;
On shores where gallant Moultrie fought,
Your hearts shall gather flame,
Which shall light, through the fight,
To as proud and pure a fame;
Though the storm of battle rages wild,
Which shall light ye still to fame!
Your souls shall need no succor,
Though the tempest rages fast,
While ye prize the mighty memories,
That have famous made the past:
While ye think of Marion's rifles,
And of Sumter's gleaming blade,
And the name, and the fame,
In your Eutaw flag displayed:
Of the proud and matchless name ye bear,
And our banner yet displayed.
Though the tempest rages fast,
While ye prize the mighty memories,
That have famous made the past:
While ye think of Marion's rifles,
And of Sumter's gleaming blade,
And the name, and the fame,
In your Eutaw flag displayed:
Of the proud and matchless name ye bear,
And our banner yet displayed.
111
That banner still shall triumph,
In the troublous storm at hand,
And ye shall joy, beneath its folds,
To light each meteor-brand;
Wild then shall rise, ye warriors,
Your shouts above the blast,
As ye claim, for each name,
A brave triumph like the past:
As ye wave your Eutaw banner high,
In a triumph like the past.
In the troublous storm at hand,
And ye shall joy, beneath its folds,
To light each meteor-brand;
Wild then shall rise, ye warriors,
Your shouts above the blast,
As ye claim, for each name,
A brave triumph like the past:
As ye wave your Eutaw banner high,
In a triumph like the past.
| Areytos or songs and ballads of the South | |