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In Egypt's sandy silence, all alone,
Stands a gigantic Leg, which far off throws
The only shadow that the Desert knows:
"I am great OZYMANDIAS," saith the stone,
"The King of Kings; this mighty City shows
"The wonders of my hand." The City's gone,
Nought but the Leg remaining to disclose
The site of this forgotten Babylon.
We wonder, and some Hunter may express
Wonder like ours, when thro' the wilderness
Where London stood, holding the Wolf in chace,
He meets some fragments huge, and stops to guess
What powerful but unrecorded race
Once dwelt in that annihilated place.

—Horace Smith.

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

"A Wolf Brother is without a care, He walks where the weak and the heartless wont dare, And if by chance he should stumble or lose control, His brothers are there, to help reach his goal, For a worthy Brother, no need is too great, He need not but ask, fulfillments his fate,

For an Wolf Brother death holds no fear, Vengeance will be his, through his brothers still here, For the Brotherhood means just what it implies, A Brothers a Brother, till that Brother dies, And if he is loyal, and never lost faith, In each Brothers heart, will always be a place,

So a Brother am I and will always be, Even after my life is taken away from me, Ill lie down content, knowing I stood, Head held high, walking proud in the BROTHERHOOD!"

Our flag is proudly floating
On the land and on the main,
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!
Beneath it oft we've conquered,
And we'll conquer oft again!
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!

CHORUS:Our Dixie foreve