THE BALLAD OF THE ALAMO
(Words and music by Dimitri Tiompkin and Paul Webster)
Recorded by Marty Robbins
In the southern part of Texas, in the town of San Antone
There's a fortress all in ruins that the weeds have overgrown
You may look in vain for crosses and you'll never see a one
But sometimes between the setting and the rising of the sun ...
You can hear a ghostly bugle as the men go marching by
You can hear them as they answer to that roll call in the sky
Colonel Travis, Davy Crockett and a hundred eighty more
Captain Dickenson, Jim Bowie present and accounted for;
Back in eighteen thirty-six - Houston said to Travis
"Get some volunteers and go - fortify the Alamo"
Well, the men came from Texas and from old Tennessee
And they joined up with Travis - just to fight for the right to be free ...
Indian scouts with squirrel guns, men with muzzle loaders
Stood together heel and toe to defend the Alamo
"You may ne'er see your loved ones" Travis told them that day
"Those that want to can leave now, those that fight to the death let 'em stay."
In the sand he drew a line with his Army Sabre
Out of a hundred eighty five - not a soldier crossed the line
With his banners a-dancin' in the dawn's golden light
Santa Anna came prancin' on a horse that was black as the night ...
Sent an officer to tell - Travis to surrender
Travis answered with a shell and a rousin' rebel yell
Santa Anna turned scarlet, "Play [*Deguello]", he roared
"I will show them no quarter, everyone will be put to the sword";
One hundred and eighty five holdin' back five thousand
Five days, six days, eight days - ten; Travis held and held again
Then he sent for replacements for his wounded and lame
But the troops that were comin' never came, never came, never came ...
Twice he charged them to recall - on the fatal third time
Santa Anna breached the wall and he killed them one and all
Now the bugles are silent and there's rust on each sword
And the small band of soldiers ... lie asleep in the arms of the Lord ...
In the southern part of Texas, near the town of San Antone
Like a statue on his Pinto rides a cowboy all alone
And he sees the cattle grazin' where a century before
Santa Anna's guns were blazin' and the cannons used to roar...
And his eyes turn sorta misty and his heart begins to glow
And he takes his hat off slowly ... to the Men of Alamo
... To the thirteen days of glory at the seige of Alamo.
Note: *Deguello translation: Take no prisoners.