Born on a mountaintop in Tennessee, greenest state in the land of the free, raised in the woods so's he knew every tree, killed Timber Bar when he was only three, Davy, Davy Crockett, king of the wild frontier. In 1813 the creeks uprose, adding redskin arrows to the country's woes, now Indian fighting is something he knows, so he shoulders his rifle and off he goes, Davy, Davy Crockett, the man who don't know fear. Off through the woods he's a-marching along, making up yarns and singing a song, itchy for fighting and righting a wrong, he's ringy as a bar and twice as strong, Davy, Davy Crockett, the buckskin buccaneer. He fought single-handed through the Indian war, till the creeks was whipped and the peace was in store, and while he was handling this risky chore, he made himself a legend forevermore, Davy, Davy Crockett, king of the wild frontier. He gave his word and he gave his hand, that his Indian friends could keep their land, and the rest of his life he took to stand, that justice was due every redskin band, Davy, Davy Crockett, holding his promise dear. He went off to Congress and served a spell, fixing up the government and laws as well, took over Washington's a weird tale, and patched up the crack in the Liberty Bell, Davy, Davy Crockett, seeing his duty clear. When he come home, his politicking done, the big western march had just begun, so he packed his gear and his trusty gun, and lit out a grinning to follow the sun, Davy, Davy Crockett, leading the pioneers. He heard of Houston and Austin and so, to the Texas plains he just had to go, for freedom was fighting another foe, and they needed him at the Isle of Moe, Davy, Davy Crockett, the man who don't know fear. His land is biggest and his land is best, from grassy plains to the mountains crest, he's ahead of us all meeting the test, following his legend into the west, Davy, Davy Crockett, king of the wild frontier.