Classic Poem

'T is not the time for dalliance soft
In gentle ladies' bowers,
When treason flaunts her flag aloft
And dares to tread on ours.
Again the swords our fathers wore
Must in the scabbards rattle,
And we will sing the songs of yore,
When marching forth to battle.

From every pine-clad mountain side,
From every dimpled valley,
The bugles ringing far and wide,
Invite the brave to rally.
And far to East and far to West
Our iron line advances,
While freedom's flag, by freemen blessed,
In glory o'er us dances.

But when the birds of morning sing,
And all the wars are over,
Our lances at your feet we'll fling,
And then we'll play the lover.
And all will say 't is time to wed,
As gayly drums shall rattle.
Before our conquering column's head,
When marching home from battle.