Lyrics:
Why come ye hither redcoats, what minds your madness fills
In our valleys and there is danger and there’s danger in our hills
Oh hear ye not the singing of the bugle wild and free
Oh soon you’ll know the ringing of the rifle from the tree
Oh the rifle, oh the rifle
In our hands will prove no trifle
Ye may ride a goodly steed, ye may know a sterner master
You forward march with speed but ye’ll learn to back much faster
When you meet our mountain boys and their leader Johnny Stark
That they make but little noise and always hit their mark
Oh the rifle, oh the rifle
In our hands will prove no trifle
Have ye no graves at home back across the briny water?
That hither ye must come like bullocks to the slaughter?
But if we the job must do, then the sooner ‘tis begun
If we can only hold but true then the quicker t’will be done
Oh the rifle (clap, clap), oh the rifle
In our hands will prove no trifle
Oh the rifle (clap, clap), oh the rifle
In our hands will prove no trifle