In the southern part of Texas, near the town of San Antone,
Stand's a fortress all in ruin that the weeds have overgrown.
You may look in vain for crosses and you'll never see a one,
But sometimes between the setting and the rising of the sun,
You can hear a ghostly bugle as the men go marching by;
You can hear them as they answer to the roll call in the sky:
Colonel Travis, Davy Crockett and a hundred eighty more;
Captain Dickenson, Jim Bowie, present and accounted for.
Back in 1836, Houston said to Travis:
"Get some volunteers and go, fortify the Alamo."
Well, the men came from Texas and from old Tennessee,
And with them came young smitty just to fight for the right to be free.
Indian scouts with squirrel guns, men with muzzle loaders,
Stood together heel and toe to defend the Alamo.
"You may never see your loved ones," Travis told them that day.
"Those that want to can leave now, those who'll fight to the death, let 'em stay."
One hundred eighty five brave men holding back five thousand.
Five days, six days, eight days, ten; Travis held and held again.
Then he sent for replacements for his wounded and his lame,
But the troops that were coming never came, never came, never came.
Twice he charged, then blew recall. On the fatal third time,
Santa Anna breaks the wall and he killed them one and all.
Now the bugles are silent and there's rust on each sword,
And the small band of soldiers lie asleep in the arms of the Lord.
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D:\dokumentyPK\!!2009_PK\ALAMO TIOMKIN In the southern part of Texas.doc
Data ostatniego wydruku 2009-06-20 22:30
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