A Modern Ballad

O what is the which so thrills the ear

Down in the valley drumming, drumming?

Only the scarlet soldiers, dear,

The soldiers coming.

O what is the light I see flashing so clear

Over the distance brightly, brightly?

Only the sun on their weapons, dear,

As they step lightly.

O what are they doing with all that gear;

What are they doing this morning, this morning?

Only the usual manceuvres, dear,

Or prhaps a warning.

O why have they left the road down there;

Why are they suddenly wheeling, wheeling?

Perhaps a change in the orders, dearl;

Why are you kneeling?

O haven't they stopped for the doctor's care;

Haven't they reined their horses,  their horses?

Why, they are none of them wounded, dear,

None of these forces.

O is it the parson they want, with white hair;

Is it the parson, is it, is it?

No, they are passing his gateway, dear,

Without a visit.

O it must be the farmer who lives so near,

It must be the farmer, so cunning, so cunning;

They have passed the farm already, dear,

And now they are running.

O where are you going? Stay with me here.

Were the vows you swore me deceiving,, deceiving?

No, I promised to love you, dear,

But I must be leaving.

O it's broken the lock and splintered the door,

O it's the gate where they're turning, turning;

Their feet are heavy on the floor

And their eyes are burning.