Ho! will the despot trifle,
In dwellings of the free;
Kentuckians yield the rifle,
Kentuckians bend the knee!
With dastard fear of danger,
And trembling at the strife;
Kentucky, to the stranger,
Yield liberty for life!
Up! up! each gallant ranger,
With rifle and with knife!

The bastard and the traitor,
The wolfcub and the snake,
The robber, swindler, hater,
Are in your homes--awake!
Nor let the cunning foeman
Despoil your liberty;
Yield weapon up to no man,
While ye can strike and see,
Awake, each gallant yeoman,
If still ye would be free!

Aye, see to sight the rifle,
And smite with spear and knife,
Let no base cunning stifle
Each lesson of your life:
How won your gallant sires
The country which ye keep?
By soul, which still inspires
The soil on which ye weep!
Leap up! their spirit fires,
And rouse ye from your sleep!

"What!" cry the sires so famous,
In Orleans' ancient field,
"Will ye, our children, shame us,
And to the despot yield?
What! each brave lesson stifle
We left to give you life?
Let apish despots trifle
With home and child and wife?
And yield, O shame! the rifle,
And sheathe, O shame! the knife?"

"There's Life in the Old Land Yet."