The Drum.
I hate that drum’s discordant sound,1
Parading round and round and round ;2
To thoughtless youth it pleasure yields,3
And lures from cities and from fields,4
To sell their liberty for charms5
Of tawdry lace and glittering arms ;6
And when Ambition’s voice commands,7
To march, and fight, and fall, in foreign lands.8
I hate that drum’s discordant sound,9
Parading round and round and round ;10
To me it talks of ravag’d plains,11
And burning towns, and ruin’d swains,12
And mangled limbs and dying groans,13
And widows’ tears, and orphans’ moans,14
And all that Misery’s hand bestows,15
To fill the catalogue of human woes.16