Ye freemen, how long will ye stifle
The vengeance that justice inspires?
With treason how long will ye trifle,
And shame the proud name of your sires?
Out, out with the sword and the rifle,
In defence of your homes and your fires.
The flag of the old Revolution,
Swear firmly to serve and uphold.
That no treasonous breath of pollution
Shall tarnish one star on its fold,
Swear!
And, hark, the deep voices replying
From graves where your fathers are lying:
“Swear, oh, swear!”

In this moment, who hesitates, barter
The rights which his forefathers wor,
He forfeits all claim to the charters
Transmitted from sire to son.
Kneel, at the graves of our martyrs,
And swear on your sword and your gun
Lay up your great oath on an altar
As huge and as strong as Stone-henge,
And then, with sword, fire and haltar,
Sweep down to the field of revenge.
Swear!
And, hark, the deep voices replying
From graves where your fathers are lying:
“Swear, oh, swear!”

By the tombs of your sires and brothers,
The host which the traitors have slain,
By the tears of your sisters and mothers,
In secret concealing their pain—
The grief which the heroine smothers,
Consuming the heart and the brain;
By the sigh of the penniless widow;
By the sob of her orphans' despair,
Where they sit in their sorrowful shadow,
Kneel, kneel, every freeman, and swear.
Swears!
And, hark, the deep voices replying
From graves where your fathers are lying:
“Swear, oh, swear!”

On mounds, which are wet with the weeping,
Where a nation has bowed to the sod,
Where the noblest of martyrs are sleeping,
Let the winds bear your vengeance abroad;
And your firm oath be held in the keeping
Of your patriot hearts and your God.
Over Ellsworth, for whom the first tear rose,
While to Baker and Lyon you look;
By Winthrop, a star among heroes;
By the blood of our murdered McCook,
Swear!
And, hark, the deep voices replying
From graves where your fathers are lying:
“Swear, oh, swear!”