 | Poems |  |
321
A SOLDIER AM I.
I'm a lad to war bred, who's proud to wear the red,
And this coat and this bearskin you see upon my head,
By the Russians they were seen
On the Alma's slopes of green,
And when Inkermann's grey hill-sides we heap'd high with dead;
To fight is my trade, and I never am afraid
For my queen, lads, to fight,—for my country to die;
This medal at my breast and these clasps tell you best
Where I've been—what I've seen, that a soldier am I.
And this coat and this bearskin you see upon my head,
By the Russians they were seen
On the Alma's slopes of green,
And when Inkermann's grey hill-sides we heap'd high with dead;
To fight is my trade, and I never am afraid
For my queen, lads, to fight,—for my country to die;
This medal at my breast and these clasps tell you best
Where I've been—what I've seen, that a soldier am I.
O my grand-dad, before, the red coat he wore;
At Corunna long ago well he fought under Moore;
On Salamanca's plain
He beat the French again,
And through Badajos's breach, quick their best back he bore;
Now he has a wooden peg, for at Quatre Bras a leg
A round shot took off—so he'll stump till he die;
At Chelsea, safe and snug, with his pipe and his mug,
He tells his old tales, and a soldier am I.
At Corunna long ago well he fought under Moore;
On Salamanca's plain
He beat the French again,
And through Badajos's breach, quick their best back he bore;
Now he has a wooden peg, for at Quatre Bras a leg
A round shot took off—so he'll stump till he die;
At Chelsea, safe and snug, with his pipe and his mug,
He tells his old tales, and a soldier am I.
At the Cape in the bush with the Kaffirs I'd a brush;
When Canton we storm'd, I went in with the crush;
Under Campbell 'twas warm work,
But they never found me shirk,
And when Lucknow we took, I was first in the rush;
Now I'm home safe and sound, though I've had many a wound;
This scar's not a beauty; yet, as I pass them by,
Many a girl still I see looks a side-look at me;
O they dearly love the red, and a soldier am I.
When Canton we storm'd, I went in with the crush;
Under Campbell 'twas warm work,
But they never found me shirk,
And when Lucknow we took, I was first in the rush;
Now I'm home safe and sound, though I've had many a wound;
This scar's not a beauty; yet, as I pass them by,
Many a girl still I see looks a side-look at me;
O they dearly love the red, and a soldier am I.
If you'd trust now to some, the French soon will come
To invade us at home here, but that's all a hum;
Do you think that they'll come here
To meet a British cheer,
And to taste English steel to the sound of the drum?
Should they have a whim some day to see us in that way,
We know, boys, they'll come to our shores but to die;
With Enfield and with steel, I for one will let them feel
That we're Englishmen yet—for a soldier am I.
To invade us at home here, but that's all a hum;
Do you think that they'll come here
To meet a British cheer,
And to taste English steel to the sound of the drum?
322
We know, boys, they'll come to our shores but to die;
With Enfield and with steel, I for one will let them feel
That we're Englishmen yet—for a soldier am I.
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