Stands a fortress all in ruins that the
You may look in vain for crosses,
and you'll never see a one,
But sometimes 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 the roll call in the sky
Crockett, an d a hundred eighty more
Bowie, present and accounted for
Smitty just to fight for the right to be free
Engine scouts with squirrel guns,
You may never see your loved ones,
Travis told them that day
Those who want to can leave now
Those who'll fight to the death,
One hundred eighty -five brave men
Holding back five thousand
Five days, six days, eight days, ten
Travis held and held again
Then he sent for replacements
For his wounded and his lame
But the troops that were coming
Never came, never came, never came
Twice he charred and blew recall
Santana breaks the wall and
he killed them one by all
Now the bugles are silent and
And the small band of soldiers
lie asleep in the arms of the
Stands a fortress all in ruins that the