trumpeter
trumpeter trumpeter, what are you sounding now, is it the call I'm seeking.
 you' ll know the call, said the trumpeter tall, when my trumpet goes a-speaking.
 I'm rousing them up, I'm waking them up, the tents are astir in the valley.
 and there's no more sleep, with the suns first peep for I'm sounding the old reveille, rise up said the trumpeter tall.
 can't mistake the call said the trumpeter tall, mwhen my trumpet goes a-speaking i' m, urging them on, they' re scampering on, there's drumming of horses like thunder;
 there's a maddening shout as the salvoes flash out, for I'm sounding the charge - no wonder and it's hell, said the trumpeter tall.
 lucky for you if you hear it at all, for my trumpet's but softly speaking;
 I'm caling them home, come home, come home;
 tread light on the dead in the valley who are lying around, face down on the ground, and they can't hear me sound the rally, but they' ll hear it again, in grand refrain-- when gabriel sounds the last rally.
 -------------------------------------------------------- I found this song in an old song book in the reference section of mitchell college library, charles sturt uni, bathurst, nsw, 'round about 1980.
 I can't remember the name of the book.
a victorian parlour ballad rather than a true 'service song',
but popular at home and in the field during the war.