Round us, stronger, ever stronger,
Sweeps the hostile horde;
If the strife continue longer,
We shall lose the ford.

We are scarcely one to seven,
But our cause is just;
Help us in our trial, heaven!
Keep the ford we _must_!

Hope! The fox, when worn with running,
Subtlety must use:
Let us strive to win by cunning
What by force we lose.

Bugler, seek the forest border
Whence our friends should come;
For attack, sound loud the order,
Beat upon the drum.

So our foes may think in error
That our friends are nigh,
And, disturbed by sudden terror,
From the conflict fly.

Through the wood the bugler dashes,
Far beyond the fray--
While the deadly musket flashes
Point him on his way,