| In the southern part of Texas, in the town of San Antone
|
| There’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 sometime 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 that 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 they joined up with Travis 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.»
|
| In the sand he drew a line with his army saber
|
| And out of a hundred eighty five, not a soldier crossed the line
|
| With his banners a-dancin' in the dawn’s golden light
|
| Santa Anna came prancin' on a horse that was black as the night
|
| He sent an officer to tell Travis to surrender
|
| Travis answered with a shell and a rousin' rebel yell
|
| Santa Anna turned scarlet; |
| «Play Degu"ello,» he roared
|
| «I will show them no quarter, everyone will be put to the sword.»
|
| One hundred and eighty five holdin' back five thousand
|
| Five days, six days, eight days, ten; |
| Travis held and held again
|
| Then he sent for replacements for his wounded and lame
|
| But the troops that were comin' - never came
|
| Twice he charged, then blew recall, and on the fatal third time
|
| Santa Anna breached 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
|
| In the southern part of Texas, in the town of San Antone
|
| Like a statue on his Pinto rides a cowboy all alone
|
| And he sees the cattle grazin' where a century before
|
| Santa Anna’s guns were blazin' and the cannons used to roar
|
| And his eyes turn sort of misty, and his heart begins to glow
|
| And he takes his hat off slowly to the men of Alamo…
|
| To the thirteen days of glory at the seige of Alamo |