| |
| MAKE room on our banner bright | |
| That flaps in the lifting gale, | |
| For the orb that lit the fight | |
| In Jacinto’s storied vale. | |
| Through clouds, all dark of hue, | 5 |
| It arose with radiant face; | |
| Oh, grant to a sister true, | |
| Ye stars, in your train a place! | |
| |
| The blood of the Saxon flows | |
| In the veins of men who cry,— | 10 |
| “Give ear, give ear unto those | |
| Who pine for their native sky! | |
| We call on our motherland | |
| For a home in Freedom’s hall,— | |
| While stretching forth the hand, | 15 |
| Oh, build no dividing wall! | |
| |
| “The Mexican vaunteth no more; | |
| In strife we have tamed his pride; | |
| The coward raps not at your door, | |
| Speak out! shall it open wide? | 20 |
| Oh, the wish of our hearts is strong, | |
| That the star of Jacinto’s fight | |
| Have place in the flashing throng | |
| That spangle your banner bright.” | |
| |
