And the rolling of his drumsticks
To the double quick kept time.
To the double quick kept time.
Who could see him and not follow?
O'er the works the Frenchmen swept,
And that last mad charge of Marlow
Long in Austria was wept;
O'er the works the Frenchmen swept,
And that last mad charge of Marlow
Long in Austria was wept;
For it turned the tide of battle,
And it filled the foe with dread,
And the rest, like frightened cattle,
O'er the hills and valleys fled.
And it filled the foe with dread,
And the rest, like frightened cattle,
O'er the hills and valleys fled.
Then they sought the little drummer
Who had led the charge so well,
In the lightnings and the glamour,
E'en into the mouth of hell.
Who had led the charge so well,
In the lightnings and the glamour,
E'en into the mouth of hell.
On the works they found him lying,
There beside his riddled drum,
Where the mangled dead and dying
Made the heart with pity numb.
There beside his riddled drum,
Where the mangled dead and dying
Made the heart with pity numb.
He the bravest of those heroes,
With his face turned towards the foe,
Dead to all life's joys and sorrows,
Gone where such brave spirits go.
With his face turned towards the foe,
Dead to all life's joys and sorrows,
Gone where such brave spirits go.
Filled with grief and tender pity,
To the strains of Marseillaise,
To the strains of Marseillaise,
90
