Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1892-09-21
THE LITTLE DRUMMER.
"A Soldiers Story.
r II. sToDDARR

The story / shall tell;
OF how he marched 10 battle
And all that there befell
Out in the west with Lyon,
(For once the name was trueh
For whom the little drummer beat
His rat-ta;-too.
Our army rose at midnight
Ten thousand men as one,
Each singing on his knapsack,
And saatching up Ills gan;
"Forwdrd.' and of they started,
As all good soldiers do,
When the little drummer beats for them
The rat-tat-too.
Across rolling country,
Where the mist began to rise;
Past many a blackoned farm house,
Til The sun was in the skies;
Then We met the rebel pickets,
Who skirmi>hed and withdrew,
While the little drummer beat and beat
The rat-tat-too.
Along the wooded hollows
The line OF battle ran,
Our center poured a volley,
. And the fight at once began;
For the rebels answered, shouting,
And a shower OF bullets new,
But still the little drummer beat
His rat-t2t-tOo-
He stood among his comrades.
As they quickly formed in line,
And when they raised their muskets
He watched the barrels shine;
When the volley rang he started,
For war to him was new,
But still the little drummer beat
His rat-tat-too.
1t was a sight TO see them,
That early autumn day,
Our soldiers in blue coats
And the rebel ranks In gray.
The smoke that rolled between them,
The balls that whistled through,
And the little drummer rs he beat
His rat-tat-too-
his comrades dropped around him
By fiyes and tens they fell.
Some pierced by minie bulleta,
Some torn by shot and shell.
They played against our cannon,
And caisson's splinters iew,
But still the little drummer beat
His rat-tat-too.
The right, the left, the center
The tight was everywhere;
They pushed us here-we wavereds
We drove and broke them there
The Rraybacks fixed their bayonetA
And charged the coats Of blue,
But still the little drummer beat
His rat-tat-too.
"Where is our little drummer"
His nearest comrades say,
When the dreadful fight Is over
And the smoke has cleared away,
As the rebel corps was scattering
He urged them 70 pursue,
So furiously be beat and beat
The rat-tat-too.
He stood no more among them,
For bullet a. II sped
Had glanced and struck his ankle,
And stretched him with the dead
He crawled behind q cannon,
And pale and paler grew;
But still the little drummer beAs
His rat-tat-too.
They bore him to the surgeon,
A busy man was he:
"a drummer boy-what ais himY"
His comrades answered, "Seei'
As they took him from the stretcher,
A heavy breath he drew,
And his little fingers strove 70 beat
The rat-taf-too.
The ball had spent its fury;
"a scratch, the surgeon said.
As he wound the snowy bandage
Which the lint was staining red
VI must leave you now, old fellow"
40 take me back with you,
For know the men are missing me
And the rat-tat-too."
Upon his comrades shoulder
They lifted him SO grand,
With his dusty drum before him
And his drumsticks In his hanM
To the nery front OF battle,
That nearer, nearer drew
And evermore he beat and bsas
HIS rat-tat-too.
The wounded a he passed thom
Looked up and gave Q cheer,
And one In dying blessed him
Between q smile and tear
And the graybacks they are Tying
Before the coats Of blue,
For whom the little drummer bos0
HIS rat-tat-too.
When the west was RED WITH sunsuA
And the last pursuit was DER,
Brave Lyon rode the foremost
And looked the name he borol
And before him on his saddle.
As . weary child would a,
AT the 0fflo ofummefs ~ 80