 | Parade of the Toy Soldiers |
|
 |
| The toy shop door is locked up tight And ev'rything is quiet for the night When suddenly the clock strikes twelve The fun's begun |
 |
|
|
 |
The dolls are in their best arrayed There's going to be a wonderful parade Hark to the drum, oh, here they come Cries ev'ryone |
|
 |
|
|
 |
Hear them all cheering Now they are nearing There's the captain stiff as starch |
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
Bayonets flashing Music is crashing As the wooden soldiers march |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
Sabers a-clinking Soldiers a-winking At each pretty little maid |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Here they come Here they come Here they come Here they come Wooden soldiers on parade Daylight is creeping, Dollies are sleeping, In the toyshop window fast; Soldiers so jolly, Think of each dolly, Dreaming of the night that's past. When in the morning, without a warning, Toyman pulls the window shade, There's no sign of the Wood Brigade Was ever out upon parade. Music by Leon Jessel, 1905 Words by Ballard MacDonald, 1922 |
|
 |
 |
 |
|
|
 |
|
|
 |
|
|
 |
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
 Please sign my Guest Book |