| |
| WE wake the prairie echoes with | |
| The ever-welcome sound, | |
| ‘Ring out the boot and saddle’ till | |
| Its stirring notes resound. | |
| Our horses toss their bridled heads | 5 |
| And chafe against the reins; | |
| Ring out, ring out the marching call | |
| Of the Riders of the Plains. | |
| |
| Full many a league o’er prairie wild | |
| Our trackless path must be, | 10 |
| And round it roam the fiercest tribes | |
| Of Blackfoot and of Cree; | |
| But danger from their savage bands | |
| Our dauntless heart disdains, | |
| That heart which bears the helmet up | 15 |
| Of the Riders of the Plains. | |
| |
| The thunderstorm sweeps o’er our way, | |
| But onward still we go; | |
| We scale the rugged mountain range, | |
| Descend the valleys low; | 20 |
| We face the dread Saskatchewan, | |
| Brimmed high with heavy rains; | |
| With all his might he cannot check | |
| The Riders of the Plains. | |
| |
| We muster but three hundred | 25 |
| In all this great lone land, | |
| Which stretches o’er the continent | |
| To where the Rockies stand; | |
| But not one heart doth falter, | |
| No coward voice complains, | 30 |
| That few, too few, in numbers are | |
| The Riders of the Plains. | |
| |
| Our mission is to plant the rule | |
| Of Britain’s freedom here, | |
| Restrain the lawless savage, and | 35 |
| Protect the pioneer; | |
| And ’tis a proud and daring trust | |
| To hold these vast domains, | |
| With but three hundred mounted men, | |
| The Riders of the Plains. | 40 |
| |
| We bear no lifted banner, | |
| The soldier’s care and pride; | |
| No waving flag leads onward | |
| Our horsemen when they ride; | |
| The sense of duty well discharged | 45 |
| All idle thought sustains, | |
| No other spur to action need | |
| The Riders of the Plains. | |
| |
