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For I am going to France my dear,
to face the daring foe.
Where cannons they do rattle,
and bullets they do fly,
O stay at home my Nancy,
and I pray you do not cry.
When you get to France my dear,
there is one thing more I crave,
That you’ll send me a letter
how they to you behave.
Well spoke my dearest Nancy,
there words have won my heart,
Since Providence has ordered it,
That you and I must part.
I'll leave you all my bounty,
and every thing but life,
When I return from France my dear,
I will make you my wife.
But when you’re on the march my dear,
may the Heavens be your guide,
With fife and drums before you,
yourselves for to revive.
