Oh, we're coming from the mountains, coming down from
Singing of the high, rolling green of the alleghenies
When the time has passed that we must roam,
We'll go back to out Pennsylvania home.
Our marching feet at Valley Forge left blood upon the snow.
We huddled close to freedom's fire, although it flickered low.
The stronger nations sent to us their LaFayettes and all.
Now we, who've tasted liberty, will heed you when you call.
From the silent graves at Gettysburg, where ghostly cannons boom
The red and black of freedom's flow'rs from blood and powder bloom
Where the majesty of monuments is humbled by a cross
Which measures all our civil strife to justify their loss.
If lesser men than we should come, as someday they just may,
Hoping that our youthful feet, with age, have turned to clay,
Then the call will go thoughout the land to meet the rising foe,
And forward, with the nation, Pennsylvania will go.