Stephen Richardson, Lieutenant,
Meets us first upon the roll-call,
Isaac Renfro, next as Ensign,
Samuel Smith, and William Dunkard,
A. McQuea, and William Poor,
Rank as Sergeants next in order,
Then J. Nicholson, D. Perkins,
B. F. Smith, and William Truelove,
Are the Corporals, four in number;
For the Privates, see appendix,
In the chorus of my ditty.
Their commander's martial title,
Rose to General from Captain,
When the famous State militia
Held its reign in all the counties.
And 'twas thus with many others,
Of these veteran commanders.

William Woods enrolled a column
Of the warriors of Garrard;
"Mounted Volunteer Militia,
Seventh Regiment,"--its title.
First is Thomas Brown, Lieutenant,
Then is Arthur Progg, Lieutenant,
Then comes Edward Beck as Ensign;
J--n Smith and W. Talbot,
Are the first and second Sergeants;
Sergeants third and fourth then follow,
Samuel Scott, S. Long, in order.
Joseph Brady and James Lackey,
J--s Brunt and C--s Silvers,
Are the Corporals, four in number.
Forty Privates are recorded,
At the closing of my cantos.

Other soldiers went from Garrard,
Other citizens enlisted,
Of whose names no record lingers,
Save the register of mem'ry.
General William Jennings figured
In the battle on the Raisin;
And the soldier, Robert Elkin,
And our well-remembered Buford,
Are among the names familiar,
To the vet'rans of the city.
Michael Salter was Drum-major,
In the country's earlier struggle;
Was our one surviving scion,
Of the famous Revolution.
When their knell of death was sounded,
When they one by one went from us,
They were buried with the honors
Of the military calling;
They were followed to their resting
By the requiem fife of wailing,
By the muffled drum of sorrow,
By the solemn tramp of mourners,
By the fun'ral march of soldiers.
We are rearing brilliant guide-posts,
To the brave men of this era;
We are pointing to their actions,
With indelible mementos.
Thus may generations rescue
Sleeping heroes from oblivion;
May no recreant prove wanting,
In a sacred trust of homage.
Let the archives of the city,
The proud city of Lancaster,
Still perpetuate her warriors,
Still preserve her men of valor.
They are resting on their laurels,
In an everlasting quiet;
They have passed the rolling river,
To the armed hosts of heaven;
The