The Alamo,
where they stood,
shoulder to shoulder,
outnumbered a thousand to one.
The bravest men of Texas,
and their hardy women too,
standing at the nexus,
of Santa Anna's troops.
Beyond that lonely line,
drawn in that grainy sand,
by a naked sabre blade,
their voice were of as one.
"We'll stay!" out comes aloud,
a death knell if there ever was one,
with a single messenger their redoubt,
buying precious time for Houston's advance.
So stood the Alamo,
alone and in defense,
the saviour of Texas,
against the horde beyond the river grand.
Their mettle was tested,
both women and the men,
against cannon shells and bullets,
bayonets and sabre thrusts.
Till one by one they fell,
Bowie and Crockett too,
giants among men,
sons of Texas true.
In the morning that follows,
the end of all their forms,
lying bloodied broken,
dead but of reknown.
As Santa Anna's army paused,
jubilant in their cause,
burning their dead victims,
in a pyre seen for miles.
So rides the men of General Houston,
rallying to their aid,
"For The Alamo!" their mission,
on Santa Anna's tail.
But beyond the victory
the triump of Houston's band,
lies the heavy price of victory,
the sacrifice of Alamo and it's men.
So sound the distant trumpets,
beat the silent drum,
bow your head in reverence,
as we remember their names resound.
The Alamo,
where they stood,
shoulder to shoulder,
outnumbered a thousand to one.
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