Our Free Cross is shimmering,

In the arid Texas air,

And, it's silver arms are glancing,

At the grim Agents, gathering there;

And, Fearless, is the little Child,

For, whom, it's gallant armed servants shield;

The blood that warms their hearts shall stain,

That Compound, if they yield it, to Federal fire.

Each bright, Believing eye is fixed, upon this Earth,

And brief is each solemn, Knowing greeting;

There is no Un-Sealing peal, nor Trumpets' mighty sound,

Where those stern Protectors are meeting.

They go to the slaughter from the rooftops,

To strike the sudden blow,

And pour on Sand, as would be poured Fresh Water,

The best blood of the false Foe;

Who rush upon them from armored truck, and coward's Policy,

And clear the wide Waco valley,

For to, without a Mortal Witness, fire, clean through, their Women and Children before the judging face of God,

And fly back before the Men of His Word might rally.

Chains are, through the Deceitful years, around our Country pressed,

And the Leaders of Men have betrayed Her, just as did Judas unto Our Lord,

So, to that same end, we must make our Countryside's bleeding breast,

The grave of the Persecutor and the Usurper,

Just as the noose dealt swift Death unto Judas.

Not until, from her Devilish fetters,

We raise up Columbia, in Christ-like defiance, once again,

And scrawl, for the Ages, in bloody paint,

The Lamentations of Our Brother-Race, the plight of whom, "We Understand";

Oh, not until that Prophesied Day, the broad smile again shall steal,

Across those shadowed and forgotten faces,

Nor, but one, of all those Martyrs of Mount Carmel feel,

His Children's dear embraces:

Exit not, this abysmal cavern, of our own Creation,

Until, far away, the Federal hosts are flying, and fast;

And all their bravest, Deceived, before Mount Carmel,

As are the Autumn's leaves, Dead, lying.