|
Oh hark! the drums do beat, my love, no longer can we stay. |
|
The bugle-horns are sounding clear, and we must march away. |
|
We're ordered down to Portsmouth, and it's many is the weary mile. |
|
To join the British Army on the banks of the Nile. |
|
Oh Willie, dearest Willie, don't leave me here to mourn, |
|
Don't make me curse and rue the day that ever I was born. |
|
For the parting of our love would be like parting with my life. |
|
So stay at home, my dearest love, and I will be your wife. |
|
Oh my Nancy, dearest Nancy, sure that will never do. |
|
The government has ordered, and we are bound to go. |
|
The government has ordered, and the Queen she gives command. |
|
And I am bound on oath, my love, to serve in a foreign land. |
|
Oh, but I'll cut off my yellow hair, and I'll go along with you. |
|
I'll dress myself in uniform, and I'll see Egypt too. |
|
I'll march beneath your banner while fortune it do smile, |
|
And we'll comfort one another on the banks of the Nile. |
|
But your waist it is too slender, and your fingers they are too small. |
|
In the sultry suns of Egypt your rosy cheeks would spoil. |
|
Where the cannons they do rattle, when the bullets they do fly, |
|
And the silver trumpets sound so loud to hide the dismal cries. |
|
Oh, cursed be those cruel wars, that ever they began, |
|
For they have robbed our country of manys the handsome men. |
|
They've robbed us of our sweethearts while their bodies they feed the lions, |
|
On the dry and sandy deserts which are the banks of the Nile. |
