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 BillAnd I march on ahead,With a r-r-rat-tat-tatAnd a tum-titty-um-tum-tum—Oh, there’s bushels of fun in thatFor boys with a little red drum!
The Injuns came last nightWhile the soldiers were abed,And they gobbled a Chinese kiteAnd off to the woods they fled!The woods are the cherry-treesDown in the orchard lot,And the soldiers are marching to seizeThe booty the Injuns got.With tum-titty-um-tum-tum,And r-r-rat-tat-tat,When soldiers marching comeInjuns had better scat!
Step up there, little Fred,And, Charley, have a mind!Jim is as far aheadAs you two are behind!Ready with gun and swordYour valorous work to do—Yonder the Injun hordeAre lying in wait for you.And their hearts go pitapatWhen they hear the soldiers comeWith a r-r-rat-tat-tatAnd a tum-titty-um-tum-tum!
Course it’s all in play!The skulking Injun crewThat hustled the kite awayAre 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 weWith a r-r-rat-tat-tatAnd tum-titty-um-tum-tum;And there’s glory enough in thatFor the boys with their little red drum!