'Twas a custom of the nation, Of this grand united nation, In the days I now am chanting, Eighteen hundred eight and thirty, That the military people In the towns and in the cities, In the villages and counties, Should parade in drills and musters, With the drum and fife to lead them; Should at stated times and seasons Herald forth their martial columns; Should, with powder and with flint-lock, Learn to battle and to conquer, Learn the tactics of the army. Brigade drills, battalion musters, And an annual encampment, Took in officers and soldiers, Men of strong and wiry muscle, Men from twenty-one and upwards, To the age of five and forty. 'Twas in eighteen twenty-seven That John Jennings was commander Of the elite Light Horse Company. Captain Travis Dodd succeeded, And along the years that follow, To the Sabine Volunteers, in Eighteen hundred six and thirty, Captain John A. Price, commander, There were other noted heroes. But the incident my canto Now attunes to hum'rous mention, Had its birth one fair October, Eighteen hundred eight and thirty. Colonel William Stein commanded The renowned Cornstalk Militia, Of the county of old Garrard, Near the city of Lancaster. None but officers might join them, Colonels, Majors, and Lieutenants, Captains, Corporals, and Sergeants; Only officers were mustered, In the regimental phalanx. Stein was large and he was burly, Was among the "sons of Anak," Made a Captain by Dame Nature, In his giant-sized proportions, Made a Colonel by his merits, By his lofty aspirations. But the county-seat of Garrard, The ambitious, inland city, Sent a popular petition, To the capital at Frankfort, To the legislative rulers, For an Act incorporating Their militia into Guardsmen. And forthwith their prayer was granted, Quickly granted by the rulers. See them now, the dashing Guardsmen, With their youthful men all mustered, With their uniform so dainty, With white pants and true-blue jackets, With their bayonets and muskets, All their jaunty sails and rigging! By and by their martial exploits, By and by their bold pretensions, Won a challenge from the Cornstalks, The redoubtable militia, From the band of Regimentals, Now encamped upon the river, From the fearless giant Colonel, To appear in his dominions. John A. Flack, the warlike Captain Of the brave and youthful Guardsmen, Was not then within the city, Was not then at post of duty; And his men were in disorder, Were all scattered in confusion. But they soon began to rally, On one fair October evening, Rally 'round their platoon leaders, Ready to accept the challenge. Of their number was a stranger, An adopted son of Garrard, Who was light and lithe of person, Who was full of life and vigor, Who had visited the city, The good city of Lancaster; Who had joined her sports and pastimes,