Come from the mountain side,
Come from the valleys wide,
      See, how we muster strong,
          Tramping along!

   Rifle on shoulder sling,
Powder and bullets bring,
      Manly in mind and heart,
          Play we our part.

   Sure be each eye to-day,
Steady each hand must stay
      If in the trial we,
          Victors would be!

   Sharp is the crack! 'tis done!
Lost is the chance, or won;
      Right in the gold is it?
          Huzza! the hit!

   The sun will sink and light the west
And touch the peaks with crimson glow;
      Then shadows fill the vale with rest
          While the stars look peace on all below.

   In triumph then we take away,
And with our prizes homeward wend;
      Through meadows sweet with new-mown hay,
          A song exultant will we send.