From fields where the blithe birds chirp and sing,
From woods where your sturdy axes ring;
Leave the plow in the furrow to stand;
Grasp the musket firm in your hand:
There's a grander place in the world for you,
And nobler work for your hands to do.
Come with me! Come with me! Come with me! Come!
Follow the drum, the drum, the drum!
Come with me where the camps shine white;
Hark to my shrill tattoo at night,