- Up! comrades, up! The moon´s in the west, and the hounds of old Pennock will find out our nest.
We must be gone ere the dawning of day; the Quantrill they seek shall be far, far away.
Their toils after us shall ever be vain. Let them scout through the brush and scour the plain;
We´ll pass through their midst in the dead of the night. We are lions in combat and eagles in flight.
- Chorus: Rouse, my brave boys, up, up and away; press hard on the foe ere the dawning of day;
Look well to your steeds so gallant in chase. May they
never give o´er till they win in the race.
- When old Pennock is weary and the chase given o´er, we´ll pass through their midst and bathe in their gore.
We´ll come as a thunderbolt comes from the cloud; we´ll smite the oppressor and humble the proud.
Few shall escape us and few shall be spared, for keen is our saber, in
vengeance ´tis bared;
For none are so strong, so mighty in fight, as the the warrior who battles for our Southern right.
- Though the bush is our home, the green sod our bed, our drink from the river, and roots for our bread,
We pine not for more; we bow not the head, for freedom is ever within the green wood.
Tyrants shan´t conquer and fetters shan´t bind, for true are our rifles; our steeds like the wind.
We´ll sheathe not the sword; we´ll draw not the rein, till Pennock is
banished from valley and plain.