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BEN BATTLE was a soldier bold, | |
And used to wars alarms, | |
But a cannon-ball took off his legs, | |
So he laid down his arms. | |
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Now as they bore him off the field, | 5 |
Said he, Let others shoot; | |
For here I leave my second leg, | |
And the Forty-second Foot. | |
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The army surgeons made him limbs; | |
Said he, Theyre only pegs; | 10 |
But theyre as wooden members quite | |
As represent my legs. | |
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Now Ben he loved a pretty maid, | |
Her name was Nelly Gray; | |
So he went to pay her his devours, | 15 |
When hed devoured his pay. | |
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But when he called on Nelly Gray, | |
She made him quite a scoff; | |
And when she saw his wooden legs, | |
Began to take them off. | 20 |
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Oh, Nelly Gray! Oh, Nelly Gray! | |
Is this your love so warm? | |
The love that loves a scarlet coat | |
Should be more uniform. | |
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Said she, I loved a soldier once, | 25 |
For he was blithe and brave; | |
But I will never have a man | |
With both legs in the grave. | |
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Before you had those timber toes | |
Your love I did allow, | 30 |
But then, you know, you stand upon | |
Another footing now. | |
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Oh, Nelly Gray! Oh, Nelly Gray! | |
For all your jeering speeches, | |
At dutys call I left my legs | 35 |
In Badajozs breaches. | |
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Why, then, said she, youve lost the feet | |
Of legs in wars alarms, | |
And now you cannot wear the shoes | |
Upon your feats of arms. | 40 |
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Oh, false and fickle Nelly Gray! | |
I know why you refuse | |
Though Ive no feet, some other man | |
Is standing in my shoes! | |
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I wish I neer had seen your face; | 45 |
But now, a long farewell! | |
For you will be my death; alas! | |
You will not be my Nell. | |
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Now, when he went from Nelly Gray, | |
His heart so heavy got, | 50 |
And life was such a burthen grown, | |
It made him take a knot. | |
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So round his melancholy neck | |
A rope he did entwine, | |
And, for the second time in life, | 55 |
Enlisted in the Line! | |
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One end he tied around a beam, | |
And then removed his pegs, | |
And, as his legs were off, of course | |
He soon was off his legs. | 60 |
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And there he hung till he was dead | |
As any nail in town; | |
For though despair had cut him up, | |
It could not cut him down. | |
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A dozen men sat on his corpse, | 65 |
To find out why he died; | |
And they buried Ben in four cross-roads, | |
With a stake in his inside. | |
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