The Drum

I'm a beautiful red, red drum,

And I train with the soldier boys;

As up the street we come,

Wonderful is our noise!

There's Tom, and Jim, and Phil,

And Dick, and Nat, and Fred,

While Widow Cutler's Bill

And I march on ahead,

With a r-r-rat-tat-tat,

And a tum-titty-um-tum-tum—

Oh, there's bushels of fun in that

For boys with a little red drum!

The Injuns came last night

While the soldiers were abed

And they gobbled a Chinese kite

And off to the woods they fled!

The woods are the cherry-trees

Down in the orchard lot,

And the soldiers are marching to seize

The booty the Injuns got,

With tum-titty-um-tum-tum,

And r-r-rat-tat-tat,

When soldiers marching come

Injuns had better scat!

Step up there, little Fred,

And, Charley, have a mind!

Jim is as far ahead

As you two are behind!

Ready with gun and sword

Your valorous work to do—

Yonder the Injun horde

Are lying in wait for you.

And their hearts go pitapat

When they hear the soldiers come

With a r-r-rat-tat-tat

And a tum-titty-um-tum-tum!

Course it's all in play!

The skulking Injun crew

That hustled the kite away

Are little white boys, like you!

But "honest" or "just in fun,"

It is all the same to me;

And, when the battle is won,

Home once again march we

With a r-r-rat-tat-tat

And tum-titty-um-tum-tum;

And there's glory enough in that

For the boys with their little red drum!