SEMINOLE WAR SONG.

———

BY WM. H. C. HOSMER.

———

Fire, famine, and slaughter,

Have wasted our band—

Our life-blood like water

Has moistened the land;

But truly our rifles

The bullet will speed,

While an arm can be lifted—

One bosom can bleed.

The raven is croaking

A dirge for the slain—

Our cabins lie smoking

On prairie and plain;

But paths we will follow

To carnage that lead,

While an arm can be lifted—

One bosom can bleed.

Our old men lie mangled

By wild-wolf and bear;

Our babes we have strangled—

Dread act of despair;

And vengeance will nerve us

To desperate deed,

While an arm can be lifted—

One bosom can bleed.

Pale robbers are swarming

In hammock and vale;

Their squadrons are forming

With flags on the gale;

We dread not their footmen,

Armed rider and steed,

While an arm can be lifted—

One bosom can bleed.