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What should I do if in I went,
and joy should fill each tender heart,
Some story then I must invent,
to act the poor lame soldier's part.
and joy should fill each tender heart,
Some story then I must invent,
to act the poor lame soldier's part.
I drew a bandage o'er my face,
and crooked up a lying knee,
To think that e'en in this blest place,
there's not a friend knew ought of me.
Sae in I went, Tray wagg'd his tail,
and fawning to my mother ran,
Come here she cries, what can you ail?
when my faint story I began.
and crooked up a lying knee,
To think that e'en in this blest place,
there's not a friend knew ought of me.
Sae in I went, Tray wagg'd his tail,
and fawning to my mother ran,
Come here she cries, what can you ail?
when my faint story I began.
I changed my voice to that of age,
A poor old soldier lodgings crave,
that very name their love engag'd,
A soldier!-Ay the best we have.
My father drew me in a seat,
“You're welcome,” with a sigh, she said,
My mother fry'd her best hung meat
while curds and cheese the table spread.
A poor old soldier lodgings crave,
that very name their love engag'd,
A soldier!-Ay the best we have.
My father drew me in a seat,
“You're welcome,” with a sigh, she said,
My mother fry'd her best hung meat
while curds and cheese the table spread.
I had a son, my father said,
A soldier too, but he is gone,
⟨Have⟩ you heard from him I reply'd,
behind me I left many a one,
A soldier too, but he is gone,
⟨Have⟩ you heard from him I reply'd,
behind me I left many a one,
