When first I went to soldier with rifle on my shoulder
There wasn’t any bolder in the corps boys, oh
And when I walked abroad all the pretty girls, they’d wink at me
The ladies can’t resist a jolly soldier.
Bang upon the big drum, crash upon the cymbals
We’ll sing as we go marching along boys, along
And although on this campaign
There’s no whisky or champagne
Still we’ll keep our spirits going with a song, boys.
Now, when we got the route, and for India we set out
The girls they cried around us to the docks boys, oh
And we gave three hearty cheers for the pretty little dears
In hopes that each one got another soldier.
Then we marched through Khalasan and we met the wild Afghan
And made him at Charasia for to run boys, oh
And we marched into Kabul, and we took the Bala Hissar
And we made them to respect the British soldier.
And now I’ll say good-bye for I’m feeling rather dry
And I see a comrade waiting with a song, boys, oh
So here’s good luck to all and promotion soon, and better money
That’s the sort of ticket for a soldier!