A hundred and eighty were challenged by Travis to die
By the line that he drew with his sword when the battle was nigh
Any man that would fight to the death, cross over
But if you wanna live, you better fly
And over the line stepped a hundred and seventy nine
Hey, Santa Ana, we're killing you're soldiers below
So men, wherever they go, will remember the Alamo
Old Bowie lay dyin', his powder was ready and dry