Oft the call to ‘boots and saddles’
Echoed in the sleeping camps
Ere the rosy morn unfolding
Blotted out the starry lamps.
In the brakes of Mississippi,
In the woods of Tennessee,
Jingling spurs and rattling sabres
Flung their challenge far and free
As we galloped down the valley
As we scampered o’er the hill
There was always something doing
When we rode with Little Phil.

Sturdy-limbed and short in stature
All his loyal comrades knew
Him as every inch a soldier
Valiant-hearted, strong and true.
When the battle-storm was highest,
He was there among the boys,
And ‘tis doubtful if Napoleon
Held himself in better poise.
No man saw the issue clearer--
You may call it luck or skill;
But it looked like intuition
When we rode with Little Phil.

I remember how he led us
In a skirmish brief and hot
Down near Corinth through a highway
Where the battery poured its shot
It was heavily supported
By the gray boat sheltered near
"We will take it," said the Colonel
And we took it with a cheer
Not a single trooper wavered
Where e’re patriot hearts are beating
But such things are quite the custom,
When we rode with Little Phil.

Qualities that mark the leader
In the early days revealed
More and more became apparent
When he gained a wider field.
Perryville and Chattanooga
Still aloud his praises speak
In the Shenandoah Valley,
Winchester and Cedar Creek
Splendid victories --Yellow Tavern
Opequan and Fisher’s Hill,
All the potent high stars aided
Those who rode with Little Phil.

Daring, dashing, trusted leader,
Pride of all the troops he led!
Where’ere patriot hearts are beating
Wider still his fame shall spread.
Rich reward of worth and valor
Were the victories he won
And we buried him with honors
Where he sleeps at Arlington
Resting-place of many heroes
Gratefully remembered still;
But we hold no shrine more sacred
Than the Grave of Little Phil.