Why come ye hither, redcoats? Your minds what madness fills? In our forests there is danger And there's danger in our hills. Oh, hear ye not the singing of the bugle loud and free? Full soon ye'll know the ringing of the rifle from the tree.

For the rifle, for the rifle, in our hands will prove no trifle.

Is this the one? If so, I can remember the rest of the lyrics.

Bud