My song is of the Horseman who woke the world's unrest,
To slake a king's ambition or serve a maid's behest;
Who bore aloft, the love-gage and reaped the rich reward;
Who swayed the purple banner and swung the golden sword!
My song is of the Horseman! steel wrist and iron thigh,
In whatsoever saddle, beneath whatever sky!
Who breaks the road for Empire; who leads the
hope forlorn;
Who rides with whip and knee-pad; who rides with
rope and horn!
My song is of the Horseman who leads us through the vale,
Who dares the deepest river and risks the stoutest rail!
Who, 'neath the roaring race-stand, rides down to fence or fall;
Who bends above the boar-spear; who drives the dancing ball!
My song is of the Horseman, the centaurs of all time
Who stole for us the freedom of colts of every clime!
Who wore the spurs of mastery, who held the reins of pride,
Who left the world a heritage of sons to rule and ride!
Up! Swear by bit and saddle-cloth, by crupper, cinch, and horn.
The spurs our grandsires buckled by our sons' sons shall be worn!
Let oil, nor steam, nor wings of dream deprive us of our own
The wide world for a kingdom and the saddle for a throne!
