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James Whitcomb Riley - The Boy Patriot
Work rating: Low

I want to be a Soldier!--
                    A Soldier!--
                        A Soldier!--
  I want to be a Soldier, with a sabre in my hand
  Or a little carbine rifle, or a musket on my shoulder,
  Or just a snare-drum, snarling in the middle of the band;
  I want to hear, high overhead, The Old Flag flap her wings
  While all the Army, following, in chorus cheers and sings;
  I want to hear the tramp and jar
    Of patriots a million,
  As gayly dancing off to war
    As dancing a cotillion.

  _I want to be a Soldier!_--
                    _A Soldier!_--
                        _A Soldier!_--
  _I want to be a Soldier, with a sabre in my hand_
  _Or a little carbine rifle, or a musket on my shoulder_,
  _Or just a snare-drum, snarling in the middle of the band_.

  I want to see the battle!--
                    The battle!--
                        The battle!--
  I want to see the battle, and be in it to the end;--
  I want to hear the cannon clear their throats and catch the prattle
  Of all the pretty compliments the enemy can send!--
  And then I know my wits will go,--and where I _should`nt_ be--
  Well, there`s the spot, in any fight, that you may search for me.
  So, when our foes have had their fill,
    Though I`m among the dying,
  To see The Old Flag flying still,
    I`ll laugh to leave her flying!

  _I want to be a Soldier!_--
                    _A Soldier!_--
                        _A Soldier!_--
  _I want to be a Soldier, with a sabre in my hand_
  _Or a little carbine rifle, or a musket on my shoulder_,
  _Or just a snare-drum, snarling in the middle of the band_.
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