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 ground he seeks repose.
If an anxious care should cross his mind,
“Tis of the girl he’s left behind,
When he parted from her in sorrow and woe,
And went to the wars a long time ago.
Then cheer, boys, cheer for the girls afar,
We’ll all go home at the close of the war;
And, sadly tanned by a Southern sun,
We’ll spin long yarns of the deeds we’ve done.
Second Seminole War