Respectfully Dedicated
TO THE AUTHOR OF THE POEM
"Sheridan's Ride
[from
Winchester]" (1865)
SONG and CHORUS
written by
T[homas]. BUCHANAN READ [1822-1872]
composed by
DAVID A. WARDEN.

Philadelphia, PA: LEE & WALKER, 322 Chestnut St.
[Lithograper:] G. F. Swain
Plate No. 10164_4.
[Source: 089/165@Levy]

1. Up from the South at break of day,
Bringing from Winchester fresh dismay,
Th’ affrighted air with a shudder bore,
Like a herald in haste to the chieftain’s door,
The terrible grumble and rumble and roar,
Telling the battle was on once more,
The terrible grumble and rumble and roar,
  Telling the battle was on once more,
  And Sheridan twenty miles away. 

CHORUS [sung after each VERSE]
Hurrah! hurrah! the day is won,
Hurrah! hurrah! for Sheridan,
Hurrah! hurrah! for horse and man,
Hurrah! hurrah! for Sheridan.

2. And wider still those billows of war
Thundered along the horison’s bar,
And louder yet into Winchester rolled
The roar of that red sea uncontrolled,
Making the blood of the listener cold
As he thought of the state in that fiery fray,—
Making the blood of the listener cold
  As he thought of the stat of that fiery fray,
  And Sheridan twenty miles away.

3. But there is a road from Winchester town,
A good, broad highway, leading down;
And there thro’ the flash of the morning light,
A steed as black as the steeds of night
Was seen to pass as with eagle flight—
As if he knew the terrible need
He stretched away with his utmost speed;
  Hill rose and fell— but his heart was gay,
  With Sheridan fifteen miles away.

4. Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering South,
The dust, like the smoke from the cannon’s mouth,
Or the trail of a comet sweeping faster and faster,
Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster;
The heart of the steed and the heart of the master
Where beating like prisoners assaulting their walls,
Impatient to be where the battle field calls;
  Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play,
  With Sheridan only ten miles away.

5. Under his spurning feet the road
Like an arrowy alpine river flowed,
And the landscape sped away behind
Like an ocean flying before the wind;
And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire,
Swept on, with his wild eyes full of fire,
But, lo! he is nearing his heart’s desire—
  He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray,
  With Sheridan only five miles away.