An', gents, never a man comes back.
"'As Edson an' his troop goes through, the Yanks turns an' opens on 'em.

The voices of the Spencers sounds like the long roll of a drum.
Hoss an' man goes down, dead an' wounded; never a gent of 'em all rides back through that awful Yankee line.

Pore Edson shore has his wish; he's cut the trail of folks who's cap'ble of aimin' low an' shootin' half way troo.
"'These sperited moves I've been relatin' don't take no time in the doin'.

The hairbrain play of Captain Edson forces our hands.

The Old Man orders a charge, an' we pushes the Yanks back onto their hosses an' rescoos what's left of Edson an' his lancers.