They called for the Youth of the nation,
And swift at the call,
Marines and the Middies were ready
To fight and to fall.

They dreamed of a past that was glory,
And glory to be,
Of a flag that was waving in triumph
On land and on sea.

No war! But a mother is weeping,
A father grown old —
No war! But a harvest is reaping
Of hearts that are cold.

No war! But the Country was calling
And theirs not to choose,
The North and the South had their heroes,
And so — Vera Cruz!