The debt o’ blood we paid in blood:
‘Remember, boys, the Alamo!’
Fired every Texan where he stood,
An’ nerved his arm for deadly blow.
We whipped ’em, lads, an’ Liberty
Was born, that day, through fire an’ smoke,
This one old comrade’s left to me.”
He lit his clay pipe as he spoke.
From “Remember the Alamo” by Rose Hartwick Thorpe
(Picture found at preachrblog.blogspot.com)