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The echo of his battle-cry
Sounds and recedes, and sounds again,
His life-earned victory.
Oh, Lyon! on thy martial bier
The tears of grateful millions flow,
And Treason well may shrink, and fear
Its fated overthrow.
For wheresoe'er thy comrades stand
To face the traitors, as of yore,
Thy prescient spirit shall command
And lead the charge once more.
Then fling our flag mast-high to-day,
Triumphant 'mid the clang of war;
And death to him who shall betray
One single stripe or star!
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