William Makepeace Thackeray

Ballads


Скачать книгу

we posted, on plain or in trench:

       Malbrook only need to attack it

       And away from him scamper'd we French.

       Cheer up! 'tis no use to be glum, boys—

       'Tis written, since fighting begun,

       That sometimes we fight and we conquer,

       And sometimes we fight and we run.

       "To fight and to run was our fate:

       Our fortune and fame had departed.

       And so perish'd Louis the Great—

       Old, lonely, and half broken-hearted.

       His coffin they pelted with mud,

       His body they tried to lay hands on;

       And so having buried King Louis

       They loyally served his great-grandson.

       "God save the beloved King Louis!

       (For so he was nicknamed by some,)

       And now came my father to do his

       King's orders and beat on the drum.

       My grandsire was dead, but his bones

       Must have shaken I'm certain for joy,

       To hear daddy drumming the English

       From the meadows of famed Fontenoy.

       "So well did he drum in that battle

       That the enemy show'd us their backs;

       Corbleu! it was pleasant to rattle

       The sticks and to follow old Saxe!

       We next had Soubise as a leader,

       And as luck hath its changes and fits,

       At Rossbach, in spite of dad's drumming,

       'Tis said we were beaten by Fritz.

       "And now daddy cross'd the Atlantic,

       To drum for Montcalm and his men;

       Morbleu! but it makes a man frantic

       To think we were beaten again!

       My daddy he cross'd the wide ocean,

       My mother brought me on her neck,

       And we came in the year fifty-seven

       To guard the good town of Quebec.

       "In the year fifty-nine came the Britons—

       Full well I remember the day—

       They knocked at our gates for admittance,

       Their vessels were moor'd in our bay.

       Says our general, 'Drive me yon redcoats

       Away to the sea whence they come!'

       So we marched against Wolfe and his bull-dogs,

       We marched at the sound of the drum.

       "I think I can see my poor mammy

       With me in her hand as she waits,

       And our regiment, slowly retreating,

       Pours back through the citadel gates.

       Dear mammy she looks in their faces,

       And asks if her husband is come?

      —He is lying all cold on the glacis,

       And will never more beat on the drum.

       "Come, drink, 'tis no use to be glum, boys,

       He died like a soldier in glory;

       Here's a glass to the health of all drum-boys,

       And now I'll commence my own story.

       Once more did we cross the salt ocean,

       We came in the year eighty-one;

       And the wrongs of my father the drummer

       Were avenged by the drummer his son.

       "In Chesapeake Bay we were landed.

       In vain strove the British to pass:

       Rochambeau our armies commanded,

       Our ships they were led by De Grasse.

       Morbleu! How I rattled the drumsticks

       The day we march'd into Yorktown;

       Ten thousand of beef-eating British

       Their weapons we caused to lay down.

       "Then homewards returning victorious,

       In peace to our country we came,

       And were thanked for our glorious actions

       By Louis Sixteenth of the name.

       What drummer on earth could be prouder

       Than I, while I drumm'd at Versailles

       To the lovely court ladies in powder,

       And lappets, and long satin-tails?

       "The Princes that day pass'd before us,

       Our countrymen's glory and hope;

       Monsieur, who was learned in Horace,

       D'Artois, who could dance the tightrope.

       One night we kept guard for the Queen

       At her Majesty's opera-box,

       While the King, that majestical monarch,

       Sat filing at home at his locks.

       "Yes, I drumm'd for the fair Antoinette,

       And so smiling she look'd and so tender,

       That our officers, privates, and drummers,

       All vow'd they would die to defend her.

       But she cared not for us honest fellows,

       Who fought and who bled in her wars,

       She sneer'd at our gallant Rochambeau,

       And turned Lafayette out of doors.

       "Ventrebleu! then I swore a great oath,

       No more to such tyrants to kneel.

       And so just to keep up my drumming,

       One day I drumm'd down the Bastille.

       Ho, landlord! a stoup of fresh wine.

       Come, comrades, a bumper we'll try,

       And drink to the year eighty-nine

       And the glorious fourth of July!

       "Then bravely our cannon it thunder'd

       As onwards our patriots bore.

       Our enemies were but a hundred,

       And we twenty thousand or more.

       They carried the news to King Louis.

       He heard it as calm as you please,

       And, like a majestical monarch,

       Kept filing his locks and his keys.

       "We show'd our republican courage,

       We storm'd and we broke the great gate in,

       And we murder'd the insolent governor

       For daring to keep us a-waiting.

       Lambesc and his squadrons stood by:

       They never stirr'd finger or thumb.

       The saucy aristocrats trembled

       As they heard the republican drum.

       "Hurrah! what a storm was a-brewing:

       The day of our vengeance was come!

       Through scenes of what carnage and ruin

       Did I beat on the patriot drum!

       Let's drink to the famed tenth of August:

       At midnight I beat the tattoo,