Ballads of Battle/The Mouth-Organ
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THE MOUTH-ORGAN
When drum and fife are silent,
When the pipes are packed away,
And the soldiers go
Too near the foe
For the bugle's noisy bray;
When our haversacks are heavy,
And our packs like Christian's load,
Then Jimmy Morgan[1]
Plays his old mouth-organ,
To cheer us on our road.
"It's a long, long way to Tipperary—"
When the pipes are packed away,
And the soldiers go
Too near the foe
For the bugle's noisy bray;
When our haversacks are heavy,
And our packs like Christian's load,
Then Jimmy Morgan[1]
Plays his old mouth-organ,
To cheer us on our road.
"It's a long, long way to Tipperary—"
When by the shrunken river
Reclined the great god Pan,
And to his needs,
Cut down the reeds—
And music first began;
Then all mankind did marvel
At a melody so sweet;
But when Jimmy Morgan
Plays his old mouth-organ,
Even Pan takes second seat!
Reclined the great god Pan,
And to his needs,
Cut down the reeds—
And music first began;
Then all mankind did marvel
At a melody so sweet;
But when Jimmy Morgan
Plays his old mouth-organ,
Even Pan takes second seat!
When Orpheus, of old time,
Did strike his magic lute,
He lorded it,
As he thought fit,
O'er boulder, bird, and brute;
And great trees were uprooted,
And root-marched, so to say,
But when Jimmy Morgan
Plays his old mouth-organ,
You should see us march away.
Did strike his magic lute,
He lorded it,
As he thought fit,
O'er boulder, bird, and brute;
And great trees were uprooted,
And root-marched, so to say,
But when Jimmy Morgan
Plays his old mouth-organ,
You should see us march away.
When the Piper Pied of Hamelin,
In the legend of renown,
His pipe did play,
He charmed away
The children from the town:
But behold our whole Battalion—
To the joy of wife and wench—
Led by Jimmy Morgan,
And his old mouth-organ,
March forward to the trench.
"Here we are, here we are, here we are again!"
In the legend of renown,
His pipe did play,
He charmed away
The children from the town:
But behold our whole Battalion—
To the joy of wife and wench—
Led by Jimmy Morgan,
And his old mouth-organ,
March forward to the trench.
"Here we are, here we are, here we are again!"
O, an overture by Wagner
Strikes sweetly on mine ear,
And that noble three,
Brahms, Bach, and Beethoven, I love to hear;
But when the rains are falling,
And when the roads are long,
Give me Jimmy Morgan
And his old mouth-organ
To lead our little song.
"A-roving, a-roving; we'll gang nae mair a-roving!"
Strikes sweetly on mine ear,
And that noble three,
Brahms, Bach, and Beethoven, I love to hear;
But when the rains are falling,
And when the roads are long,
Give me Jimmy Morgan
And his old mouth-organ
To lead our little song.
"A-roving, a-roving; we'll gang nae mair a-roving!"
Sometimes he pipes us grave notes,
Sometimes he pipes us gay;
Till broken feet
Take up the beat
Of quick-step or Strathspey:
But he plays upon our heart-strings
When he plays a Scottish tune—
Hear Jimmy Morgan
And his old mouth-organ
At "The Banks o' Bonnie Doon"!
Sometimes he pipes us gay;
Till broken feet
Take up the beat
Of quick-step or Strathspey:
But he plays upon our heart-strings
When he plays a Scottish tune—
Hear Jimmy Morgan
And his old mouth-organ
At "The Banks o' Bonnie Doon"!
He has a twist upon his mouth,
A twinkle in his e'e;
A roguish air,
A deil-ma-care,
Like the Piper o' Dundee:
Faith! we would dance thro' half o' France,
And a' the trenches carry,
If Jimmy Morgan
On his old mouth-organ,
Did but give us "Annie Laurie"!
A twinkle in his e'e;
A roguish air,
A deil-ma-care,
Like the Piper o' Dundee:
Faith! we would dance thro' half o' France,
And a' the trenches carry,
If Jimmy Morgan
On his old mouth-organ,
Did but give us "Annie Laurie"!
And when the war is over—
The war we mean to win—
And Kaiser Bill
Has had his pill,
And we boys march thro' Berlin;
"Unter den Linden" going,
We'll need no pipes to blow—
Just Jimmy Morgan
And his old mouth-organ,
Leading us as we go!
—"Highland laddie, Highland laddie; whar hae you been a' the day?"[2]
The war we mean to win—
And Kaiser Bill
Has had his pill,
And we boys march thro' Berlin;
"Unter den Linden" going,
We'll need no pipes to blow—
Just Jimmy Morgan
And his old mouth-organ,
Leading us as we go!
—"Highland laddie, Highland laddie; whar hae you been a' the day?"[2]
And when this life is ended,
And Morgan gone aloft,
He will not carp
Tho' he get no harp,
Nor trumpet sweet and soft;
But if there be a place for him
In the Angelic choir,
Give Jimmy Morgan
His old mouth-organ,
And he'll play and never tire.
And Morgan gone aloft,
He will not carp
Tho' he get no harp,
Nor trumpet sweet and soft;
But if there be a place for him
In the Angelic choir,
Give Jimmy Morgan
His old mouth-organ,
And he'll play and never tire.
- ↑ Though for obvious reasons of rhyme I have here ventured to appropriate the classic name "Jimmy Morgan," nevertheless the best mouth-organist in D Company, if not in the battalion, is 2203 Private William Brough. He informs me that his present instrument is something the worse for wear.
- ↑ The Regimental March of the Black Watch.