• The song of bugles enrapture me
    The fine brown dust of the soil
    Are raised upon a cloud
    The soldiers march aloud

    The song of flutes tickles me
    Their tune comes fine and clear
    The airy tone and song
    The soldiers march along

    The beat of the drums enthuse me
    Their tones rebound on the hills
    The rat-a-tat-tat consists
    The soldiers still persist

    The clatter of the horses hoofs
    Echo within the walls of trees
    Their stately prance
    Align with the soldier’s stance

    Their rhythm goes on flowing
    Drifting and persuing
    And now the men are past
    Boot prints left at last