WHAT MAKES MY HEART TO THRILL AND GLOW? . . 94

The beer makes his tongue run the quicker,

And as long as his tap never fails,

Thus over his favorite liquor

Old Peter will tell his old tales.

Says he, "In my life's ninety summers,
Strange changes and chances I've seen,
So here's to all gentlemen drummers
That ever have thumped on a skin.

"Brought up in the art military

For four generations we are;

My ancestors drummed for King Harry,
The Huguenot lad of Navarre.
And as each man in life has his station,
According as Fortune may fix,

While Condé was waving the baton,

My grandsire was trolling the sticks.

"Ah! those were the days for commanders!
What glories my grandfather won,
Ere bigots, and lackeys, and panders,
The fortunes of France had undone !
In Germany, Flanders, and Holland, -
What foeman resisted us then?
No; my grandsire was ever victorious,

My grandsire and Monsieur Turenne.