Come on, Marse Robert, throw yourself into the saddle,
For the fifes are growing fretful and the drums begin to boom:
Get a foot into the stirrup, then give your horse a chirrup
And we'll ride Stone Mountain 'til the crack of doom!
Come on, Marse Robert, your boys in gray are waiting;
We have bivouacked in this granite since the minnie struck us dumb;
But we'll rise in ancient glory to hear the splendid story
Of your valor and your greatness yet to come.
Come on, Marse Robert, the nation needs your presence.
It needs you on this mountain where all its sons may gaze.
In this time of strife and passion, lead them, in your kindly fashion,
Into peace and brotherhood, as in the olden days.