'Twas a bleak divide over all the stars and stripes
in the war cast spring of '64.
For I was twelve years grown when I forsook my father's home,
enlisted in the "ole 65".
Blood runs wild
as wall crash down.
And as the musket's pitch was long I undertook to play the drum,
though mother cried that I should wend my way so soon.
Yet despite my headstrong bent the soldiers life was wretched wrent
marching up and down the yard from dawn to dusk.
Night winds bend
as heroes descend.
But, through my desperate circumstance came a fortunate advance
when the general issued forth a call to fight.
For to the front line I was sent as he my drum did recommend,
tapping out my calls in time just like a clock.
But, our charge was met
with cannon fire
that lit the sky
and then
the night.
And now I'm dead and gone, but my fable lingers on
through the years and the sympathies we save.
And as the years press on I still play my drum
in the silver morning dew beneath the sky.
Singing lai dai lai da di dai
lai dai da di dai
Dear brothers carry on and turn your hearts forever strong
toward the brave old flag up high.
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