Fife, fife and drum, and the feet along the highway,
Crying: 'Follow, O my masters, to the field of death and fame:
Young are you, and strong and true, here is mighty work to do
On the pathway of the ages that is evermore the same.'

Fife, fife and drum, and the sad wild music thrilling, -
Sad with tears that fall for heroes, wild with courage all afire,
Still the marching feet of men, in their unison triumphant,
Tread their way along the ages to the tune of your desire!

Fife, fife and drum, and the feet along the highway!
Not of fear and death their speech is to the gallant and the brave;
But a gift that's worth the giving, and a life that's worth the living,
And a death that's worth the dying, and a light beyond the grave.

Fife, fife and drum! O the sad, wild music shrilling,
Far and fair and hopeful ever, - soaring skyward all afire!
And it's oh, to follow on to the end whereto thou callest, -
Follow down to death or glory on the feet of thy desire!