I hate the drums discordant sound,
Parading round and round and round,
To thoughtless youth it pleasure yields,
And lures from cities and from fields,
To sell their liberty for charms
Of tawdry lace, and glittring arms
And, when Ambitions voice commands,
March, fight, and fall in foreign lands.
I hate that drums discordant sound,
Parading round and round and round,
To me it talks of ravagd plains
And burning towns, and ruind swains,
And mangled limbs, and dying groans,
And widows tears, and orphans moans,
And all that Misrys hand bestows
To swell the list of human woes.
Parading round and round and round,
To thoughtless youth it pleasure yields,
And lures from cities and from fields,
To sell their liberty for charms
Of tawdry lace, and glittring arms
And, when Ambitions voice commands,
March, fight, and fall in foreign lands.
I hate that drums discordant sound,
Parading round and round and round,
To me it talks of ravagd plains
And burning towns, and ruind swains,
And mangled limbs, and dying groans,
And widows tears, and orphans moans,
And all that Misrys hand bestows
To swell the list of human woes.
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