With trumpet-blare, in fringe and gold,
And flags that flutter, fold on fold;
And rush and rattle, surge and swing,
And left to right, all glittering
In lordly plumes, that flash and glow,
And guns and stretchers, row on row!
There’s no one knows the reason why
The musketeers go marching by,
Go marching, marching, marching by.