As the soldier boys march bravely down the street;
A little child is weeping,
As she listens to the din,
Of kettle-drum and tramp of many feet.
“Oh! my papa! Oh! my papa!”
Wailed the tiny little mite.
“You have gone and left poor mamma all alone;
Come back, my darling papa,
Oh! do come home tonight,
And see how good your little girl has grown.