I’m a gorgeous golden hero
And my trade is taking life.
Hear the twittle-twittle-tweero
Of my sibilating fife
And the rub-a-dub-a-dum
Of my big bass drum!
I’m an escort strong and bold,
The Grand Army to protect.
My countenance is cold
And my attitude erect
I’m a Californian Guard
And my banner flies aloft,
But the stones are O, so hard!
And my feet are O, so soft!
Public-domain source text
The National Guardsman
by Ambrose Bierce
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This is a source transcription from Standard Ebooks, published in Past Poetry’s public-domain archive without line-by-line editorial notes. Public-domain source edition. Availability can vary by territory.
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