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William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.

The Surprise

NOW, shroud thy banners, Freedom,

And fire the minute gun,

For the red men of the forest

A hellish deed have done.

Not on the field of battle,

Where a soldier loves to die,

Have thy young martyrs fallen,

For whom the brave will sigh.

O, deed of shame inhuman!

O, deed of blood and woe—

A hundred bold and gallant men

The tomahawk laid low.

Flush’d with high hopes they trail

Through the shady palmettos,

When sudden flash’d the savage knife—

The war-whoop wild arose.

From out the oaken hammocks

A thousand Indians sprang,

As with their rifles’ thundering crash

The forest arches rang.

Still, ’gainst o’erpowering numbers,

The white men battled on:

And many a savage roll’d in death

On that eventful morn.

At last, the brave have perish’d,—

Their dirge, the war-whoop wild!

For whom will stream deep sorrow’s tear,

From maiden, wife, and child.

And oft will memory wander,

And shuddering give a prayer,

For the brave who fell in Florida,

And weep, no aid was there.

No hand to give them burial,

To close their dying eyes;—

God take those gallant spirits home,

Who perish’d by surprise!