Page:Ballads and Barrack-Room Ballads (1892).djvu/199

When the cholera comes—as it will past a doubt—
Keep out of the wet and don’t go on the shout,
For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out,
   An’ it crumples the young British soldier.
      Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier. . .

But the worst o’ your foes is the sun over’ead:
You must wear your ’elmet for all that is said:
If’e finds you uncovered’ e’ll knock you down dead,
   An’ you'll die like a fool of a soldier.
      Fool, fool, fool of a soldier. . .

If you’re cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind,
Don’t grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind;
Be handy and civil and then you will find
   That it’s beer for the young British soldier.
      Beer, beer, beer for the soldier. . .

Now, if you must marry, take care she is old—
A troop-sergeant’s widow’s the nicest I’m told—
For beauty won’t help if your rations is cold,
   Nor love ain’t enough for a soldier.
      ’Nough, ’nough, ’nough for a soldier. . .