I Wanna Be In The Cavalry….
I Wanna Be In The Cavalry And yet another video by Corb Lund that cavalrymen of all ages will enjoy.
I Wanna Be In The Cavalry And yet another video by Corb Lund that cavalrymen of all ages will enjoy.
As Constabulary, beneath the lightning – Bolt, they held a war-torn Germany from chaos By gentle strength and upright example; a Supporting hand to the weak and a relentless Foe to those who fed on war’s debris. The orange gave way to the gold and green And the horse to a thing of fire and …
Of Camp Supply, decades ago, when Trader reigned as King,And dear old “Jakey” was “K.O.”–these are the times I sing.By order every man was told to choose a decent nameFor his respective mount–it seemed a very easy game;
Pressing here my mossy pillow, Forms that moulder ‘neath the willow, Forms that sleep beneath the billow, Flit and frolic round me now; Banishing all thought of mourning, All my dreams with joy adorning, May they tarry till the morning Ere they breathe their “Hough!” “Hough!” boys, “Hough!”–“Hough!” boys, “Hough!” Let the soldier’s toast be …
The following versus are based upon a real occurrence from the 2nd Cavalry. Friday evening, after stables, the sergeant passed the wordThat inspection would be mounted, such a “roaring” as was heard,For the captain was a “corker.” When he looked you in the eye,You’ ld wish you were a “doughboy,” if he asked the reason …
A bugler once tried to bugle “Tatoo.”The bugle was old, but the bugler was new;The troops were encamped in a wild sylvan glade,And the echoes played tag with the discord it made.
T’was in eighteen hundred and thirty-six,That we fought in the Everglades;When we showed the Seminole the trick,That from mem’ry never fades;We’ve been in many a fight since then,For t’is there that we belong;So we’ve got the right that we earned as men,To sing the Regiment’s song.
Hark! the rattling roll of the musketeers,And the ruffled drums, and the rallying cheers,And the rifles burn with a keen desireLike the crackling whips of a hemlock fire,And the singing shot and the shrieking shellAnd the splintered fire on the shattered hell,
This is the tale of a trooper -“ a fellow who had no God,Who earned his pay on a scrubby bay at the left of a ragged squad;Booted and spurred and cursing, with nary a thought of good,He made but one of the rosters run of the Fighting Brotherhood.
One hand on the sabre,And one on the rein,The troopers move forwardIn line on the plain.As rings the word " Gallop! " The steel scabbards clank,And each rowel is pressedTo a horses hot flank;
With a past that is full of honor,With a present full of work;With faith and hope in the future,March on and never shirk;Heads high as we sing to our Standards,Sit close as we gallop free;To the Charge, the Charge victorious,Of the SECOND CAVALRY.
When sleep is done,And the rising sunShall have burnished thy glossy hair.To horse again,And we’ ll scour the plain,And we’ ll heat up the red man’ s lair. Then up my gallant steed! the wild wind’ s speedIs but slow to thy headlong flight;And we’ ll rein up soon, and the light DragoonWith his charger …
Oh! the dragoon bold he knows no care, As he rides along with his uncropp’d hair; Himself in the saddle he lightly throws, And on the weekly scout he goes. At night he camps in the old pine wood, He lights his fire and cooks his food; His saddle-blanket around him throws, And on the …
O the Dragoon bold, he scorns all care, As he goes around with his uncropped hair; He spends no thought on the evil star That sent him away to the border war. His form in the saddle he lightly throws, And on the moonlight scout he goes, And merrily trolls some old-time song As over …
Up and to horse, as the kiss of mornReddens the cheek of the skyAnd her sweet breath blows through the aisles of the corn,And the pulse of youth beats high!Up and away in the cool clear air,Life worth living, and all things fair,Clickity-click-click-“clickity-click-“And it’ s oh for the Cavalry!
Our good steeds sniff the evening air,Our pulses with their purpose tingle;The foeman’ s fires are twinkling there;He leaps to hear our sabres jingle!Halt! Each carbine sends its whizzing ball;Now, cling! clang! forward all,Into the fight!
The corral’s not quite as crowded now, the chores a little lighter. And the closer I get to the barn, my throat’s a little tighter. I thank the Lord I no longer hear the muffled, painful groan, And I’m glad he gave me courage, to show mercy for the roan.
Our bugles sound gayly. To horse and away!And over the mountains breaks the day;Then ho! brothers, ho! for the ride or the fight,There are deeds to be done ere we slumber to-night! And whether we fight or whether we fallBy sabre-stroke or rifle-ball,The hearts of the free will remember us yet,And our country, our country …