15. Swamp Fox

Songs of the Revolution – 15. Swamp Fox

Lyrics:

We follow where the Swamp Fox guides

His friends and merry men are we

And when the British Tories ride

We burrow in the cypress trees

Our home is where they fear to tread

Our roof the treetops overhead

The viper’s lair our only bed

We ride, we hide, we strike again

Some White, some Black, Marion’s men                                                                                                                                                             

Now pile on the brush and roll the log

Hard pillow for a soldier’s head

That’s half the time in brake and bog

We’ll find our slumber when we’re dead                                                                                                                       

The Swamp Fox whispers, never shouts

In our camp or on the scout

This wily soldier of the south

We ride, we hide, we strike again

Some White, some Black, Marion’s men

We hide by day and shun the light

But quick to strike the sudden blow

We mount and start in early night

Through the swamp we track our foe

The Swamp Fox leads through vines and reeds

He smells the air, he tests the breeze

He guides his steed with martial ease

We ride, we hide, we strike again

Some Black, some White, Marion’s men

The owl is hooting in the night

See their campfire burning bright                                                                                                                                    

We move in quietly toward the site

The gator joins us for a bite                                                                                                                         

Without a sound, without a breath

Our horses muzzled quiet as death

We ready sword and bayonet                                                                                                                   

Our bugle blows, now off we go

We spur our chargers toward the foe

Toward the clearing, through the trees

Ready for the strife are we

And there he cowers, filled with fright

Dreads our blades, he dreads the fight

Runs for cover of the night

We ride, we hide, we strike again

Some White, some Black, Marion’s men

Some White, some Black, Marion’s men

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