When sudden sound of the trumpets
Still faint, commands a fierce grip,
And sudden words like midnight falcons
Swoop down from the fevered lips,
When melody rains on the road,
It wanders side by side with men:
The little orchestra of hope
With the true love conducting them.
The little orchestra of hope
With the true love conducting them.
Back in the years of loss and turmoil
When sudden gusts of bullet rain
Came down to us without warning,
Without mercy or restraint,
And all commanders lost their voices,
That’s when it took command of men:
The little orchestra of hope
With the true love conducting them.
The little orchestra of hope
With the true love conducting them.
The drum is bent, the trumpet – dented,
The old bassoon begins to croak,
And the clarinet is full of gashes,
But played by such a dashing rogue!
The flutist’s grace is all but royal,
And there it is, in league with men:
The little orchestra of hope
With the true love conducting them.
The little orchestra of hope
With the true love conducting them.