O, the South is the queen of all nations,
The home of the brave and the true—
She makes no vain demonstration;
But shows what her brave sons can do;
Her freedom and advancement they cherish—
“Our rights, our liberties,” they cry,
“To the rescue, we’ll win the fight or perish,
For the Southern boys never fear to die.”

Chorus.—Then hurrah for the “Stars and Bars,”
No stain on its folds ever be—
Its glory dishonor never mars,
And ’twill yet grace the land of the free.

Bring forward the tankard and fill it,
Ye sons that are loyal and brave,
Our blood—O, how freely we’ll spill it,
We are fighting for freedom or the grave;
Our armies may be scattered and disbanded,
Yet the wild-woods we still will infest—
Yet shall fear the brave foe tho’ single-handed,
When the death rattle burst from his breast.

Though black clouds sometimes may darken,
And shadow the bright sunny sky;
To the rumbling of cannon we’ll hearken,
Which tells of the foe as they fly.
Tho’ thousands may fall stark and gory,
Their requiem from gun and cannon mouth,
They’ll win fame, freedom and glory;
And all for the loved “Sunny South.”