Alabama

Bruised and bleeding, pale and weary,
Onward to the South and West,
Through dark woods and deserts dreary,
By relentless foemen pressed,
Came a tribe where evening, darkling,
Flushed a mighty river's breast;
And they cried, their faint eyes sparkling,
"Alabama! Here we rest!"

By the stern steam-demon hurried,
Far from home and scenes so blest;
By the gloomy care-dogs worried,
Sleepless, houseless, and distressed,
Days and nights beheld me hieing
Like a bird without a nest,
Till I hailed thy waters, crying,
"Alabama! Here I rest!"

Oh! when life's last sun is blinking
In the pale and darksome West,
And my weary frame is sinking,
With its cares and woes oppressed,
May I, as I drop the burden
From my sick and fainting breast,
Cry, beside the swelling Jordan,
"Alabama! Here I rest!"