Tenting on the open green,
Thousands of our loyal soldiers
Wait the orders, "To the Scene."
To the scene of strife and conflict,
To the scene of murder bold,
To the scene of brutal treatment,
Ghastly horrors seldom told.
And they await with some impatience,
Ready for the open fray,
There to risk their lives in battle,
For the cause of humanity.
Slavery once bound in fetters,
Many of our noble sons,
Who today to gain the freedom
For others gladly shoulder guns.
And there are at Chickamauga
's brave and
Ready for war in Cuba,
Who will share it with the rest.
No, they will not fight for conquest,
Neither do they think of gain;
They are pledged to aid the Cubans
In their strife to free from Spain.
When there came a city for justice
From a nation close at hand.
The hearts all beat in unison'
All o'er our own fair land.
And sympathy was soon awakened
In the East and in the West,
And loyal sons at once were eager
To join the Cubans, with a zest.
Strange it seems, that war must wage
And human blood be shed;
And wives and mothers sacrifice.
Such is the ransom paid.
A glorious future dawns for those
'Who without thought of gain
Have answered to the call, "To Arm!"
Bound to avenge the "Maine."
On sea or land, where'er they be
In battle's fiercest fray,
A hand above is guiding them
As at Manila Bay.
And "Victory" will be the cry,
Which will echo far and near
When o'er the
Antilles float our
To each of us so dear.
Loved ones must fall too well we know
But in a cause so great,
'Tis better far to die a man
Than meet the Spaniard's fate.
Then as we decorate the graves,
Of the heroes long since dead,
Let us bear in mind our boys today,
And lowly bow the head
In prayer to God, who rules o'er all
And judges righteously,
And bids us wait in humble faith
Till He brings the victory.