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.
For it’s trot, trot, trot is the soldier’s lot,
When he ‘lists in the Cavalry,
And it’s hike, hike, hike which they don’t much like,
For our friends in the Infantry.
Oh! it’s shoot, shoot, shoot when the trumpets toot,
If you’re in the Artillery;
And it’s fight, fight, fight for your Country’s right,
In the “SECOND CAVALRY.”
When the trumpet sounds that the firing’s ceased,
And our War Flag we may furl,
We are Always Ready–to say the least,
To flirt with a pretty girl;
For at making love or at duty’s call,
Our motto is “Toujours Pret,”
Oh! a soldier’s life is the best of all,
So sing with a will to-day.
Let’s sing a song to the Cavalry,
We’ll follow where’er it leads;
We love it’s yellow standards,
All lined with gallant deeds.
So here’s to the horse, and the rider bold.
To the trot, and the gallop free,
To the charge, and the rush, and the fierce melee,
Of the dashing Cavalry.
When the trumpets ring, and the chargers spring,
And the lines of the foeman reel,
Then dearer far are the days of war,
For the lads of the spur and steel.
With “Old Glory” bright, through the dusty light,
And our guidons floating free,
For the ranks of war, it’s hip, hurrah!
In the Second Cavary.