How stands the glass around?
For shame you take no care, my boys,
How stands the glass around?
Let wine and mirth abound;
The trumpet sound,
The colors they do fly my boys;
To fight, kill or wound;
As you would be found,
Contented with hard fare, my boys
On the cold ground
O why, soldiers why?
O why should we be melancholy boys,
O why soldiers why?
Whose bus'ness is to die;
What? sighing? Fye!
Drink on, drown fear, be jolly boys;
'Tis he, you or I, wet, hot, cold or dry;
We're always bound to follow boys,
And scorn to fly.
'Tis but vain;
I mean not to upbraid you boys,
'Tis but vain;
For a soldier to complain;
Should next campaign,
Send us to him that made us boys;
We're free from pain,
But should we remain,
A bottle and kind landlady
Cures all again.
For shame you take no care, my boys,
How stands the glass around?
Let wine and mirth abound;
The trumpet sound,
The colors they do fly my boys;
To fight, kill or wound;
As you would be found,
Contented with hard fare, my boys
On the cold ground
O why, soldiers why?
O why should we be melancholy boys,
O why soldiers why?
Whose bus'ness is to die;
What? sighing? Fye!
Drink on, drown fear, be jolly boys;
'Tis he, you or I, wet, hot, cold or dry;
We're always bound to follow boys,
And scorn to fly.
'Tis but vain;
I mean not to upbraid you boys,
'Tis but vain;
For a soldier to complain;
Should next campaign,
Send us to him that made us boys;
We're free from pain,
But should we remain,
A bottle and kind landlady
Cures all again.
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