The Drummer Boy

I, poor drummer boy -

they're leading me from my cell.

If I had stayed a drummer

I would not be imprisoned now.

O gallows, you lofty house,

You look so fearsome,

I won't look at you any longer

because I know I am yours.

When soldiers march by

who were not quartered with me -

when they ask who I was:

I was a drummer from the first company.

Good night, marble rocks,

mountains and hills -

Good night, officers,

corporals and musketeers.

Good night, officers,

corporals and grenadiers,

I cry with a loud voice,

and take my leave of you!

Good night! Good night.