Tonight I march beneath the stars,
But, behold! a vision greater far.
With music in my heart and hand,
I gaze 'pon the Drum Major's stand,
And standing there, my brilliant muse,
Who's love I do so fear to lose,
I fear to give it first.

His face is handsome, proud, and true,
His eyes; a deepset, godly blue.
He has a stature tall and grave,
Like a young knight upon parade
Going to a distant land
With love in heart and sword in hand,
To find his Lady true.

T'were he a knight, such tales they'd tell,
He'd charm the monsters straight to Hell
With the music of his soul
And strength to manage every goal.
He'd save the Lady, win her heart,
In love they'd swear they'd never part.
And thus shall end my fantasy
Of brave Sir Matthew's gallantry.