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Bobby Horton - Virginia Marseillaise | Текст песни

Virginia hears the dreadful summons
Sounding hoarsley from afar
On her sons she calls and calmly
Bids them now prepare for war
Bids them now prepare for war

With manly hearts and hands to aid her
She cares not how her foeman swarm
She bares her bosom to the storm
While she laughs, to scorn the pround invader

To Arms! Brothers dear
Gird on, the trenchant brand
Strike Home! Strike Home!
No craven fear! For home and native land!

Shall the sons of Old Virginia prove unworthy of their sires
No! They'l show the haughty foeman, That in fight, she "never tires"
With fav'ring heaven to befriend her To whome alone she bends the knee
'Til ev'ry foot of soil is free she her sacred cause will ne'er surrender

A ray of never dying glory, shall Virginia's brows o'erspread
Men unborn shall tell the story, how their fathers fought and bled
While fairest hands their wounds were tending and brightest eyes the dead bewailed
How not a noble bosom quailed, E'en to die, their native land defending

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