March

March — march — march!
Making sounds as they tread,
Ho-ho! how they step,
Going down to the dead!
Every stride, every tramp,
Every footfall is nearer;
And dimmer each lamp,
As darkness gi-ows drearer;
But ho! how they march,
Making sounds as they tread;
Ho-ho! how they step,
Going down to the dead!
March — march — march!
Making sounds as they tread,
Ho-ho, how they laugh,
Going down to the dead!
How they whirl — how they trip,
How they smile, how they dally,
How blithesome they skip,
Going down to the valley;
Oh-ho, how they march,
Making sounds as they tread;
Ho-ho, how they skip,
Going down to the dead!
March — march — march!
Earth groans as they tread!
Each carries a skull;
Going down to the dead!
Every stride — every stamp,
Every footfall is bolder;
'Tis a skeleton's tramp,
With a skull on his shoulder!
But ho, how he steps
With a high-tossing head,
That clay-cover'd bone,
Going down to the dead!