Drummer Boy

This is from 8th grade history. We had to write a poem about someone in the Civil War and I choose a drummer boy.

Created by pigtailfreak on Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Bum, bum, bruuum.
Bum, bum, bruuum.
The beat of the drum.
Pounding in my chest.
Bum, bum, bruuum.
Bum, bum, bruuum.
I'm a drummer boy.
One of the Union.
The drums beat on,
While many fall.
Gunshots everywhere.
Flying past my head.
I stand with fear in my eyes.
Eleven years is not very old.
To young to fight,
To old to stay home.
So I beat on the drum.
Standing in a line.
Pounding out orders.
Bum, bum, bruuum.
The beating of the drum.
It goes on and on.
No matter what.
We are the communication.
The drummer boys.
Bum, bum, bruuum.
Bum, bum, bruuum.
I don't feel it at first.
Then the pain comes.
I've been hit.
Bum, bum, bruuum.
The beating of the drums go on.
Blood seeps through my shirt.
The last thing I hear,
Is the beating of those drums.
Bum, bum, bruuum.

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