They wero da3-s to be rrnipnibored, When, at sour.d of trompet oall, Young reerults we lct't the village, Bent on glory one and all, And the musió round us flashing Marie us teel fluit evennore Our lives wero worth the living Aa they nevrr were before. 1 remomber the day WIidü we rode a!l av.-ny To the dreacis that the musie made, And our hopos, one and all, When the old trumpet rail Bang out cïervr for our first parade. It was glorious while it lasted, But the jonrs went by too soon. Youth should stay a little longer When a, lad's a bold dragoon. Then, like shadowa trom us drifting, Comrades feil in foreign land. Home again the roll cali foiuid ua But a broken little band. As we down the streot To the old measnred beat It waa tears that the music made, And it seemed-like a prayer V , For the lads who would ne'or Stand agoin by our side on parade. But the niarching days are over. Veterans, now at ease we stand TiH the order comes for mare-hing To the kist and restful land. Only, when the troops are passing, Our ninety years we all forget. And the old familiar music Mates us fcol we're soldiere yet. And we're young once again As we hark to the strain Till the sounds in the distance fade. So we wait one and all For the last trumpet cali That shall sound for the last parade.