To the Army of the Ptomac
"The Drummer Boy of Antietam" (1863)
A War Ballad
Music Composed & Adapted by
Albert Fleming.

Louisville, KY: D. P. Faulds, No. 70 Main St.
Plate No. 1664--5
J. Slinglandt, Engraver & Printer
[Source: 1963-200001111@LoC/IHAS-CWM]

1. Where fierce Antietam’s long battle
Made the mountain echoes rattle,
As brave thousands fell like cattle—
At the butchers red employ:
There his fragile figure, seeming,
As if he were sleeping, dreaming,
While his lifeblood was outstreaming,
Lay the little drummer boy,
  Ah! weladay;
  His soul had fled away;
Never more may they see him whom once they knew,
And the soldier ears that fed,
On the music that he shed,
No more shall hear his thrilling rattattoo—
Rattattoo— Rattattoo— Rattattoo— Rattattoo—
No more shall hear his thrilling rattattoo.

2. By the shell our ranks that troubled,
There his tiny form was doubled,
And then through the sound that bubbled,
That brave boyish spirit pass’d:
Yet did no distorted feature,
Of the gallant little creature,
E’er evince the change in nature
That had come to him at last
  Ah! welladay,
  As once at home he lay
As the peace of the cradle were felt anew,
Nor Fathere more, nor Mother;
Nor Sister more, nor Brother
Shall hear him beat his thrilling rattattoo—
Rattattoo— Rattattoo— Rattattoo— Rattattoo—
Shall hear him beat his thrilling rattattoo.

3. Near where the stripling perished,
Lay the drum he so much cherished,
And the sticks he nimble flourished.
  In his hands were still described.
But each one like him was battered,
By the missiles as they scattered,
And yet though they all were shattered,
  Never had they left his side,
    Ah! welladay,
  As, silently they lay,
As the young heart whose throbs ever were so true;
  And their mission fitly ended,
  With his whose soul was blended
With the magic of their stirring rattattoo,
Rattattoo, Rattattoo, Rattattoo, Rattattoo,
With the magic of their stirring rattattoo.

4. Where he fell, the youth was huried,
With the drum and sticks he carried,
And the swarthy soldiers tarried
  And forgot the victor’s joy;
For most hard was the reflection,
That a regiment’s affection,
Could not give a resurrection,
  To the little drummer boy,
    Ah! welladay,
  Sweet blossoms fall in May;
Patriot blood is still fertilizing dew.
  And his mem’ry will revive.
  And still freshly keep alive
As long as soldiers love the rattattoo,
Rattattoo— Rattattoo, Rattattoo, Rattattoo,
As long as soldiers love the rattattoo.