(Ohhhh)(Ohhhh)(Ohhhh)(Ohhhh)Well we busted out of classHad to get away from those foolsWe learned more from a three-minute recordBaby, than we ever learned in schoolTonight I hear the neighborhood drummer soundI can feel my heart begin to poundYou say you're tired and you just wanna close your eyesAnd follow your dreams downWell we made a promise we swore we'd always rememberNo retreat, baby, no surrenderLike soldiers in the winter's night with a vow to defendNo retreat, baby, no surrenderWell now young faces grow sad and oldAnd hearts of fire grow coldWe swore blood brothers against the windI'm ready to grow young againAnd hear your sister's voice calling us homeAcross the open yardsWell maybe we could cut someplace of our ownWith these drums and these guitars'Cause we made a promise we swore we'd always rememberNo retreat, baby, no surrenderBlood brothers in the stormy night with a vow to defendNo retreat, baby, no surrenderHey!(Lalala...)(Lalala...)(Lalala...)(Lalala...)Now on the street tonight the lights grow dimThe walls of my room are closing inThere's a war outside still ragingyou say it ain't ours anymore to winI wanna sleep beneath peaceful skies in my lover's bedWith a wide open country in my eyesAnd these romantic dreams in my headBecause we made a promise we swore we'd always rememberNo retreat, baby, no surrenderBlood brothers in the stormy night with a vow to defendNo retreat, baby, no surrenderNo retreat, baby, no surrender(Ohhhh)(Ohhhh)(Ohhhh)(Ohhhh)
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Well now young faces grow sad and oldAnd hearts of fire grow coldWe swore blood brothers against the windI'm ready to grow young againAnd hear your sister's voice calling us homeAcross the open yardsWell maybe we could cut someplace of our ownWith these drums and these guitars
Because we made a promise we swore we'd always rememberNo retreat, baby, no surrenderBlood brothers in the stormy night with a vow to defendNo retreat, baby, no surrenderNo retreat, baby, no surrender(Ohhhh)(Ohhhh)(Ohhhh)(Ohhhh)
Arriving at the Alamo on Feb. 23, Santa Anna left no doubt regarding his attitude toward the defenders. He hoisted a blood-red flag, the traditional Mexican symbol of no quarter, no surrender, no mercy. Travis and Bowie defiantly answered the display with a cannon shot.
We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender. [Churchill, p. 91]
Carefully he began picking the rope with the pin, fiber by fiber, andslowly, strand by strand, the hard, twisted, weather-beaten cords gaveway and stood out on each side in stubby, frazzled ends. The pin bentand turned in his fingers, and the blood oozed from their raw ends.But he held a tight grip upon his one hope of freedom, and finally therope was so nearly separated that a sudden wrench of his body brokethe last strands. He put the bent, twisted, bloody pin carefully awayin his pocket and, stooping over, found that he could barely reach thematch on the ground. He was able to grasp also two or three dry twigsand sticks that lay near it. On the bark of the pine tree to which hewas tied were many little balls and drops of pitch. He felt over thesurface of the tree as far as he could reach and pulled off all thathe could get of this. [Pg 167]Then he found that the only part of the ropethat he could at once reach and see was that directly in front of hisbody. He turned and twisted, but there was no other way. If heattempted to burn it anywhere else he would have to guess at the bestway to hold the match, and he might waste the precious heat in whichlay his only hope.
In the late afternoon Wellesly sat beside Marguerite Delarue on herveranda and told her the story of his abduction and of his fight,which he had come so near to losing, with the fiends of heat andthirst. He showed her the bent and bloody pin which had helped toliberate him from his captivity in the canyon and in soft andlover-like tones told her that he owed his life to her and that alifetime of devotion would not be sufficient to express his gratitude.But he stopped just short of asking her to accept the lifetime ofdevotion. She was much moved and her tender blue eyes were misty withtears as she listened to the story of his sufferings. He thought hehad never seen her look so sweet and attractive and so entirely inaccord with his ideal of womanly sympathy. When he told her howEmerson Mead and his two friends had worked over him and by what anarrow margin they had saved him from severe illness and probably fromdeath, her face brightened and she seemed much pleased. She asked somequestions about Mead, and was evidently so interested in this part ofthe story that Wellesly, much to his surprise, felt a sudden impulseof personal dislike and enmity toward the big Texan. That night, as hesat at his window smoking and looking thoughtfully at the lop-sidedmoon rising over the Hermosa mountains, he was [Pg 195]thinking aboutMarguerite Delarue and the advisability of asking her to marry him.
At this point the canyon walls began to grow less steep, and DickWinters had taken advantage of the sloping, shelving side to make azigzag trail to the summit, in some places blasting the solid rock,and in others building out the pathway with great stones. Nick and Tomfollowed the path to the mountain side above, where little pools ofdried blood made a trail which showed the way a wounded man had taken.A little farther they found the body of Bill Haney, flat on its face,with arms spread out on either side. A coyote slunk away as theyappeared, dragging its hinder parts uselessly.
They carried both bodies to the bottom of the canyon and up the bloodytrail until they came to a steep-sided, narrow chasm which yawned intothe wider gulch. There they put their burdens down, side by side, anddecently straightened the limbs, folded the hands, and closed the eyesof the two dead men.
They found Antone Colorow still struggling, rolling and kicking on theground. His lips were stained with the blood his own teeth had drawn,and his red beard was flecked with foam. They untied him, and hesprang to his feet and would have darted away, intent on his onepurpose to kill the enemy who had escaped his vengeance, had not quickhands seized him. They tied his arms behind him and set him astridehis own horse, and then, surrounding him, with their revolvers drawn,they rode away to the southwest, leaving Las Plumas far to theirright. On to the river bottom they went, and into a bosque where thecottonwoods and the sycamores grew thickly and the willow underbrushwas dense.
Learn about over 1,000 camps and ghettos in Volumes I-III of this encyclopedia, which are available as a free PDF download. This reference provides text, photographs, charts, maps, and extensive indexes. 2ff7e9595c
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