Riding a Raid

'Tis old Stonewall, the Rebel, that leans on his sword,
and while we are mounting, prays low to the Lord.
Now each cavalier that loves honor and right,
let him follow the feather of Stuart tonight.
Come tighten your girth and slacken your rein,
come buckle your blanket and holster again.
Try the click of your trigger and balance your blade
for he must ride sure that goes ridin' a raid.
Now gallop, now gallop, to swim or to ford,
Old Stonewall, still watchin', prays low to the Lord.
Good-bye, dear old Rebel! The river’s not wide,
and Maryland’s lights in her window to guide.
Come tighten your girth and slacken your rein,
come buckle your blanket and holster again.
Try the click of your trigger and balance your blade
for he must ride sure that goes ridin' a raid.
There’s a man in the white house with blood on his mouth!
If there’s knaves in the North, there are braves in the South.
We are three thousand horses and not one afraid --
We are three thousand sabers and not a dull blade!
(Chorus and end -- lyrics based on my regular listening to the recording)