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I ONCE was a maid, tho’ I cannot tell when, | |
| An’ still my delight is in proper young men; | |
| Some one of a troop of dragoons was my daddie, | |
| No wonder I’m fond of a sodger laddie. | |
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| The first of my loves was a swagg’rin’ blade, | 5 |
| To rattle the thundering drum was his trade; | |
| His leg was so tight, and his cheek was so ruddy, | |
| Transported I was with my sodger laddie. | |
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| But the godly old chaplain left him in the lurch, | |
| The sword I forsook for the sake of the church, | 10 |
| He ventur’d the soul, and I risk’d the body, | |
| ’Twas then I proved false to my sodger laddie. | |
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| Full soon I grew sick of my sanctified sot, | |
| The regiment at large for a husband I got; | |
| From the gilded spontoon to the life I was ready, | 15 |
| I asked no more but a sodger laddie. | |
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| But the peace it reduc’d me to beg in despair, | |
| Till I met my old boy at a Cunningham fair; | |
| His rags regimental they flutter’d so gaudy, | |
| My heart it rejoic’d at my sodger laddie. | 20 |
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| An’ now I have liv’d—I know not how long, | |
| An’ still I can join in a cup or a song; | |
| But whilst with both hands I can hold the glass steady, | |
| Here’s to thee, my hero, my sodger laddie. | |
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