Talk not of the town, boys--give me the broad prairie, Where man, like the wind, roams impulsive and free: Behold how its beautiful colors all vary, Like those of the clouds, or the deep-rolling sea! A life in the woods, boys, is even as changing; With proud independence we season our cheer, And those who the world are for happiness ranging, Won't find it at all if they don't find it here. Then enter, boys; cheerly, boys, enter and rest! I'll show you the life, boys, we live in the West! Oho, boys!--oho, boys!--oho! Here, brothers, secure from all turmoil and danger, We reap what we sow, for the soil is our own; We spread hospitality's board for the stranger, And care not a jot for the king on his throne. We never know want, for we live by our labor, And in it contentment and happiness find; We do what we can for a friend or a neighbor, And die, boys, in peace and good-will to mankind. Then enter, boys; cheerly, boys, enter and rest; You know how we live, boys, and die in the West! Oho, boys!--oho, boys!--oho! Song of Marion's Men. [See Notes] In the ranks of Marion's band, Through morass and wooded land, Over beach of yellow sand, Mountain, plain, and valley, A southern maid, in all her pride, Marched gayly at her lover's side, In such disguise That e'en his eyes Did not discover Sallie! When returned from midnight tramp, Through the forest dark and damp, Oh his straw-couch in the camp, In his dreams he'd dally With that devoted, gentle fair, Whose large black eyes and flowing hair So near him seem, That in his dream, He breathes his love for Sallie! Oh, what joy, that maiden knew, When she found her lover true!-- Suddenly the trumpet blew, Marion's men to rally! To ward the death-spear from his side!-- In battle by Santee she died!-- Where sings the surge A ceaseless dirge Near the lone grave of Sallie. Janet McRea. [See Notes] She heard the fight was over, And won the wrath of fame! When tidings from her lover, With his good war-steed came: To guard her safely to his tent, The red-men of the woods were sent. They led her where sweet waters gush! Under the pine-tree bough! The tomahawk is raised to crush-- 'Tis buried in her brow!-- She sleeps beneath that pine-tree now! Her broken-hearted lover In hopeless conflict died! The forest-leaves now cover That soldier and his bride! The frown of the Great Spirit fell Upon the red-men like a spell! No more those waters slake their thirst, Shadeless to them that tree! O'er land and lake they roam accurst, And in the clouds they see Thy spirit, unavenged, McRea! Lisette. When Love in myrtle shades reposed, His bow and darts behind him slung; As dewey twilight round him closed, Lisette these numbers sung: "O Love! thy sylvan bower I'll fly while I've the power; Thy primrose way leads maids where they Love, honor, and obey!"