A soldier am I, [the world over]1 I range,
And would not my lot with a monarch exchange;
How welcome a soldier wherever he roves,
Attended, like Venus, by Mars and the Loves!
How dull is the ball and how cheerless the fair,
What's a feast or a frolic, if we are not there?
Kind, hearty and gallant, and joyous we come,
And the world looks alive at the sound of the Drum.

"The Soldiers are coming!" the villagers cry, 
All trades are suspended to see us pass by;
Quick flies the glad sound to the maiden up stairs,
In a moment dismiss'd are her broom and her cares; 
Outstretched is her neck, till the Soldiers she sees,
From her cap the red ribbon plays light in the breeze, 
But lighter her heart plays, as nearer we come,
And redder her cheek at the sound of the Drum.

The veteran, half dozing, awakes at the news,
Hobbles out and our column with triumph reviews; 
Near his knee, his young grandson with ecstasy hears
Of majors and generals, and fierce brigadiers;
Of the marches he took, and the hardships he knew;
Of the battles he fought, and the foes that he slew.
To his heart spirits new in wild revelry come, 
And make one rally more at the sound of the Drum.

Who loves not a Soldier -- the generous, the brave, --
The heart that can feel, and the arm that can save?
In peace the gay friend, with the manners that charm;
The thought ever liberal, the soul ever warm.
In his mind nothing selfish or pitiful known,
'Tis a temple which honour can enter alone.
No titles I boast, yet, wherever I come,
I can always feel proud at the sound of the Drum.