Of patriots a million,

As gayly dancing off to war

As dancing a cotillion.

I want to be a Soldier!

A Soldier!

A Soldier!

I want to be a Soldier, with a sabre in my hand

Or a little carbine rifle, or a musket on my shoulder,

Or just a snare-drum, snarling in the middle of the band.

I want to see the battle!—