How happy s the Soldier who lives on his pay,And spends half-a crown out of sixpence a-dayYet fears neither justice warrants nor bums,But pays all his debts with the roll of his drum.With a row-de-dow, &c.
He cares not a marvady how the world goes,His King finds him quarters, & money & clothes;His laughs at all sorrow whenever it comes,And rattles away with the roll of the drum.
With a row-de-dow, &c.
The drum is his glory, his joy, and delight;It leads him to pleasure as well as delight;No girl, when she hears it, tho’ ever so glum,Bui packs up her tatters and follows the drum.With a row-de-dow, &c.
