My prenticeship I past, where my leader breath’d his last.

When the bloody die was cast on the heights of Abram;

And I served out my trade when the gallant game was play’d,

And the Moro low was laid at the sound of the drum.

I lastly was with Curtis among the floating batt’ries,

And there I left for witness an arm and a limb;

Yet let my country need me, with Elliot to head me,

I’d clatter on my stumps at the sound of the drum.

And now, tho I must beg, with a wooden arm and leg,

And many a tatteed rag hanging over my bum,

I’m as happy with my wallet, my bottle and my callet,

As when I us’d in scarlet to follow a drum.

What tho, with hoary locks, I must stand the winter shocks,

Beneath the woods and rocks, oftentimes for a home,

When the tother bag I sell, and the tother bottle tell,

I could meet a troop of Hell, at the sound of a drum.

RECITAVO

He ended; and the kebars sheuk

Aboon the chorus roar;

While frighted rattons backward leuk,

An seek the benmost bore:

A fairy fiddler frae the neuk,

He skirl’d out, Encore.

But up arose the martial chuck,

An laid the loud uproar –

AIR
Tune: Sodger Laddie

I once was a maid, tho I cannot tell when,

And 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!

Sing, lal de dal, etc.

The first of my loves was a swaggering blade,

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.

But the godly old chaplain left him in the lurch

The sword I forsook for the sake of the church;

He risked the soul, and I ventur’d the body,

’Twas then I prov’d false to my sodger laddie.

Full soon I grew sick of my sanctified sot,

The regiment at large for a husband I got;

From the gilded spontoon to the fife I was ready,

I asked no more but a sodger laddie.

But the Peace it reduc’d me to beg in despair,

Till I met my old boy in a Cunningham Fair:

His rags regimental they flutter’d so gaudy,

My heart it rejoic’d at a sodger laddie.

And now I have liv’d – I know not how long,

And still I can join in a cup and a song,

But whilst with both hands I can hold the glass steady,

Here’s to thee, my hero, my sodger laddie.

RECITAVO

Then niest outspak a raucle carlin,

Wha kent fu weel to cleek the sterlin;

For monie a pursie she had hooked,

An had in monie a well been douked:

Her love had been a Highland laddie,

But weary fa’ the waefu woodie!

Wi sighs an sobs she thus began

To wail her braw John Highlandman –