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In the southern part of Texas,
In the town of San Antone,
There's a fortress all in ruin
That the weeds have overgrown

You may look in vain for crosses
And you'll never see a one,
But sometime between the setting
And the rising of the sun

You can hear a ghostly bugle
As the men go marching by,
You can hear them as they answer
To that roll call in the sky

Colonel Travis, Davy Crockett
And a hundred eighty more,
Captain Dickenson, Jim Bowie,
Present and accounted for

Back in 1836,
Houston said to Travis:
Get some volunteers and go
Fortify the Alamo.

Well, the men came from Texas
And from old Tennessee
And they joined up with Travis
Just to fight for the right to be free

Indian scouts with squirrel guns,
Men with muzzle loaders
Stood together heel and toe
To defend the Alamo

You may never see your loved ones
Travis told them that day,
Those that want to can leave now,
Those who'll fight to the death, let'em stay

One hundred and eighty five a man
Holdin' back five thousand,
Five days, six days, eight days, ten
Travis held and held again

Then he sent for replacements
For his wounded and lame,
But the troops that were comin'
Never came, never came, never came

Twice he charged, then blew recall
On the fatal third time
Santa Anna breached the wall
And he killed them one and all

Now the bugles are silent
And there's rust on each sword,
And the small band of soldiers
Lie asleep in the arms of The Lord

In the southern part of Texas,
In the town of San Antone,
There's a fortress all in ruin
That the weeds have overgrown …

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