Lonely Are The Brave Poem by John F. McCullagh

Lonely are the brave on this night before the slaughter.
Santa Anna's troops surround us and they promise us 'no Quarter.'
There's a mass grave up in Goliad,90 Texans in all told.
They were our last hope for relief. That's what we were sold.
We are buying time for Austin that's what Colonel Travis said.
I hope these thirteen days suffice, for tomorrow we'll lie dead.
Colonel Bowie is with the infirm, our round shot is nearly gone.
The long guns of the Mexicans will be limbered up at dawn.
A mournful serenade is playing, just beyond the wall.
They play the music of the dead hoping to unnerve us all..
When morning comes we'll hear the cry of two thousand charging men
And when they finally breach the walls then will our struggle end.
Until then we stand ready before Texas and the world
to fight them for our Liberty beneath a lone star flag.
When the last of us has fallen all will have earned an honored grave.
For the Alamo we give our lives. So lonely are the brave.