I started o' canteen porter, I finished o' canteen beer,
But a dose o' gin that a mate slipped in, it was that brought me here.
'Twas that and an extry double Guard that rubbed my nose in the dirt;
But I fell away with the Corp'ral's stock and the best of the Corp'ral's shirt.
I left my cap in a public-house, my boots in the public road,
And Lord knows where, and I don't care, my belt and my tunic goed,
They'll stop my pay, they'll cut away the stripes I used to wear,
But I left my mark on the Corp'ral's face, and I think he'll keep it there!
It ain't that I mind the Ord'ly room—it's that that cuts so hard.
My wife she cries on the barrack-gate, my kid in the barrack-yard,