Bold dragoon/Why, Soldiers, Why

why, soldiers, why.

⁠How stands the glass around?
For shame, ye take no care my boys.
⁠Let mirth and wine abound.
⁠The trumpets sound,
The colours they are flying, boys.
⁠To fight, kill, or wound,
⁠May we still be found,
Content with our hard fate my boys,
⁠On the cold ground.

⁠Why, soldiers, why,
Shou’d we be melancholy, boys?
⁠Why, soldiers, why?
⁠Whose business ‘tis to die?
⁠What, sighing? fie!
Don’t fear, drink on, be jolly, boys,
⁠‘Tis he, you, or I,
⁠Cold, hot, wet, or dry,
We’re always bound to follow, boys,
⁠And scorn to fly.

⁠‘Tis but in vain,—
I mean not to upbraid you boys,—
⁠‘Tis but in vain
⁠For soldiers to complain,
⁠Should next campaign
Send us to him who made us, boys,
⁠We’re free from pain,
⁠But, if we remain,
A bottle ann kind landlady
⁠Cure all again.

 

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