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Why, soldiers why,
Shou’d we be melancholy, boys,
Why, soldiers why,
Whole business ’tis to die!
What——Sighing, fie!
Hang fear, drink on be jolly boys,
‘Tis he, you or I!
Cold, hot, wet, dry,
We’re always bound to follow boys,
And scorn to fly.
Think of renown,
Before you go to fight my boys.
Think of renown
Likewise the British Crown;
That you may go down,
With honour to your grave my boys,
In the cold ground,
So never frown,
But take a glass, a smiling glass,
Of good liquor round.
Behold this sword of mine,
Which has flood many a cut my boys,
Behold this sword of mine,
It does like silver shine,
So boys don’t decline;
But boldly clear your ways my boys,
So let the armies join,
And break the en’my’s line.
But before you go to tight my boys,
Drink off your wine.
