Oh hark, the drums do beat, my love, no longer can we stay The bugle-horns are sounding clear and we must march away We're ordered down to Portsmouth
the trumpets are trumpin gonna do me sumpin gonna be it out brother there's no other remedy and that's a plenty plenty for me! blow the horn blow the horn
Beat The Drum, Blow The Horn For The Queen Of The South Heres A New Luis Bag For You To Shut Yo Mouth! Roll Out The Red Carpet! Bring The Trumpets Out
The Drum, Blow The Horn For The Queen Of The South Heres A New Luis Bag For You To Shut Yo Mouth! Roll Out The Red Carpet! Bring The Trumpets Out! Cuz
