From the Rio Grande's waters to the icy lakes of Maine,
Let all exult, for we have met the enemy again.
Beneath their stern old mountains we have met them in their pride;
And rolled from Buena Vista back the battle's bloody tide,
Where the enemy came surging swift like the Mississippi's flood,
And the Reaper, Death, with strong arms swung his sickle red with blood.
Santa Anna boasted loudly that before two hours were past
His Lancers through Saltillo should pursue us fierce and fast.
On comes his solid infantry, line marching after line.
Lo! their great standards in the sun like sheets of silver shine.