Don’t know if you are still looking for this, but as I was hoping to find the text on-line so I would not have to retype it from my old tape transcriptions from the 70s - anyway, here it is.
The Alamo – Juanita Coulson
“Blow it up. Blow it up,” says Houston, Sam Houston.
“They have six thousand men. It’s a sin and a snare.
Ger out of Bexar and do not delay
Or you’ll die like a dog and be massacred there.
“When they play the ‘no quarter’, they’ll close for the slaughter.
They’ll play the Deguello, the ‘Wail of Despair’.
Colonel Travis, Jim Bowie, Davy Crockett,
Major Evans, Major Bonham.
“It can never be held by as few men as these;
A bee hunting hunter, a gambler, a pirate.
You never can hold it, so fire it, so fire it.
Or you’ll never more roam on the Texas prairie.”
“If the Alamo goes,” says Travis, Bill Travis,
“All Texas is stuck like a pig in a pen.
By the god-damned Deguello, the so-and-so’s wail,
Though we’re less then two hundred, we still can be men.”
Now some say ‘twas Bonham and some the old pirate
Rode off to get help and got through, and got through.
Rode off to get Fannon, more men, and more cannon,
But Fannon was mired and his cannon were too.
Well some say the pirate and some say ‘twas Bonham
Rode back in the night all alone, all alone.
Though he knew good and well he was going to hell
He’d gotten no help so he brought back his own.
Thirty rode in from Gonzales, Gonzales.
Thirty more men put their heads in the knot.
And though it were risky, they opened the whiskey.
They bet with the gambler and swilled as they shot.
Crocket he played on the fiddle, the fiddle
Till they howled like coyotes and fired to the tune.
They banged all the bungs out and hollered their lungs out.
And sang for they knew that their end would be soon.
Evans he died with a ball in his bosom
Saying, “Sam, you was right but we done what we could.
If you give me a hand up, I think I can stand up.
I’ll blow up the fort.” But he died where he stood.
Crockett, Dave Crockett, got five of their gunners.
As sweet a sharp shooting as ever was done.
But they got him, they got him, the Mexicans shot him.
He lay in his blood by his sweet shooting gun.
Well, Travis, Bill Travis, what happened to Travis,
As broad as the Brazos, as broad and as wide?
The Mexicans filled him with lead till they killed him
And played the Deguello while Travis, he died.
Bowie, Jim Bowie, was sick with the fever
Weaker than water, too seedy to stand
But living or dying, from where he was lying
He fought till he died with his knife in his hand.
The hunter of bees killed eleven, eleven
But the twelfth shot he shot came a little too late.
“Tell Kate I am dead. She’s in old Nocogdoches.
Tell Kate I am dead. Who will tell my poor Kate?”
Repeat first three verses.
