| |
| WHEN the ’arf-made recruity goes out to the East | |
| ’E acts like a babe an’ ’e drinks like a beast, | |
| An’ ’e wonders because ’e is frequent deceased | |
| Ere ’e ’s fit for to serve as a soldier. | |
| Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, | 5 |
| Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, | |
| Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, | |
| So-oldier of the Queen! | |
| |
| Now all you recruities what’s drafted to-day, | |
| You shut up your rag-box an’ ’ark to my lay, | 10 |
| An’ I’ll sing you a soldier as far as I may: | |
| A soldier what’s fit for a soldier. | |
| Fit, fit, fit for a soldier … | |
| |
| First mind you steer clear o’ the grog-sellers’ huts, | |
| For they sell you Fixed Bay’nets that rots out your guts— | 15 |
| Ay, drink that ’ud eat the live steel from your butts— | |
| An’ it’s bad for the young British soldier. | |
| Bad, bad, bad for the soldier … | |
| |
| When the cholera comes—as it will past a doubt— | |
| Keep out of the wet and don’t go on the shout, | 20 |
| For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out, | |
| An’ it crumples the young British soldier. | |
| Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier … | |
| |
| But the worst o’ your foes is the sun over’ead: | |
| You must wear your ’elmet for all that is said: | 25 |
| If ’e finds you uncovered ’e’ll knock you down dead, | |
| An’ you’ll die like a fool of a soldier. | |
| Fool, fool, fool of a soldier … | |
| |
| If you’re cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind, | |
| Don’t grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind; | 30 |
| Be handy and civil, and then you will find | |
| That it’s beer for the young British soldier. | |
| Beer, beer, beer for the soldier … | |
| |
| Now, if you must marry, take care she is old— | |
| A troop-sergeant’s widow’s the nicest, I’m told, | 35 |
| For beauty won’t help if your rations is cold, | |
| Nor love ain’t enough for a soldier. | |
| ’Nough, ’nough, ’nough for a soldier … | |
| |
| If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loth | |
| To shoot when you catch ’em—you’ll swing, on my oath!— | 40 |
| Make ’im take ’er and keep ’er: that’s Hell for them both, | |
| An’ you’re shut o’ the curse of a soldier. | |
| Curse, curse, curse of a soldier … | |
| |
| When first under fire an’ you’re wishful to duck | |
| Don’t look nor take ’eed at the man that is struck. | 45 |
| Be thankful you’re livin’, and trust to your luck | |
| And march to your front like a soldier. | |
| Front, front, front like a soldier … | |
| |
| When ’arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch, | |
| Don’t call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch; | 50 |
| She’s human as you are—you treat her as sich, | |
| An’ she’ll fight for the young British soldier. | |
| Fight, fight, fight for the soldier … | |
| |
| When shakin’ their bustles like ladies so fine, | |
| The guns o’ the enemy wheel into line, | 55 |
| Shoot low at the limbers an’ don’t mind the shine, | |
| For noise never startles the soldier. | |
| Start-, start-, startles the soldier … | |
| |
| If your officer’s dead and the sergeants look white, | |
| Remember it’s ruin to run from a fight: | 60 |
| So take open order, lie down, and sit tight, | |
| And wait for supports like a soldier. | |
| Wait, wait, wait like a soldier … | |
| |
| When you’re wounded and left on Afghanistan’s plains, | |
| And the women come out to cut up what remains, | 65 |
| Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains | |
| An’ go to your Gawd like a soldier. | |
| Go, go, go like a soldier, | |
| Go, go, go like a soldier, | |
| Go, go, go like a soldier, | 70 |
| So-oldier of the Queen! | |
| |
