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Battle of Wilson Greek and Death
of Gen. Isyon
was on the first of August,
That well-remembered day,
From Springfield marched away.
The ditches were all filled
With our country's bitter foes, On the Banks of Wilson Creek,
Where McCulloch did repose.
He'd scoured the country far and wide,
Over prairie, grove and glen;
For twenty thousand men.
On the morning of the ninth
Lyon's mind with care was pressed; He thought to slay secession
Before it left the nest.
He studied well his chances,
Ere the rising of the sun,
Full three to every one.
With the stars and stripes afloating
Beneath the azure blue,
The loyal, brave and true.
No muffled drum was beating,
The faintest heart to cheer, But 'twas their country loudly called them
To protect the west frontier.
Lyon took the front,
While Sigel took the rear;
The loyal volunteer.
To fight for liberty,
Our country and its laws, Or drink the dregs of treason,
Regardless of the flaws.
War's fearful blast they soon must share;
The line was formed, the word was given, The deadly bullets filled the air,
From Totten's Battery driven.
Charge after charge that heroic band
Drove back the rebel host,
On a stearn and rock-bound coast.
Where the battle raged the fiercest,
And the bullets flew like hail, Lyon's form was in the thickest, —
At sight of him they would not fail.
"His horse is shot!” cried out the aid;
The panting steed lay dying there, While groans and shrieks from wounded men
In wild confusion filled the air.