| |
| THERE was no one like ’im, ’Orse or Foot, | |
| Nor any o’ the Guns I knew; | |
| An’ because it was so, why, o’ course ’e went an’ died, | |
| Which is just what the best men do. | |
| |
| So it’s knock out your pipes an’ follow me! | 5 |
| An’ it’s finish up your swipes an’ follow me! | |
| Oh, ’ark to the big drum callin’, | |
| Follow me—follow me ’ome! | |
| |
| ’Is mare she neighs the ’ole day long, | |
| She paws the ’ole night through, | 10 |
| An’ she won’t take ’er feed ’cause o’ waitin’ for ’is step, | |
| Which is just what a beast would do. | |
| |
| ’Is girl she goes with a bombardier | |
| Before ’er month is through; | |
| An’ the banns are up in church, for she’s got the beggar hooked, | 15 |
| Which is just what a girl would do. | |
| |
| We fought ’bout a dog—last week it were— | |
| No more than a round or two; | |
| But I strook ’im cruel ’ard, an’ I wish I ’adn’t now, | |
| Which is just what a man can’t do. | 20 |
| |
| ’E was all that I ’ad in the way of a friend, | |
| An’ I’ve ’ad to find one new; | |
| But I’d give my pay an’ stripe for to get the beggar back, | |
| Which it’s just too late to do. | |
| |
| So it’s knock out your pipes an’ follow me! | 25 |
| An’ it’s finish up your swipes an’ follow me! | |
| Oh, ’ark to the fifes a-crawlin’! | |
| Follow me—follow me ’ome! | |
| |
| Take ’im away! ’E’s gone where the best men go. | |
| Take ’im away! An’ the gun-wheels turnin’ slow. | 30 |
| Take ’im away! There’s more from the place ’e come. | |
| Take ’im away, with the limber an’ the drum. | |
| |
| For it’s “Three rounds blank” an’ follow me, | |
| An’ it’s “Thirteen rank” an’ follow me; | |
| Oh, passin’ the love o’ women, | 35 |
| Follow me—follow me ’ome! | |
| |
