This Simple Life - Celtibeerian

A recruiting sergeant came our way

From an inn near town at the close of day

He said my Johnny you’re a fine young man

Would you like to march along behind a military band

With a scarlet coat and a fine cocked hat

And a musket at your shoulder

The shilling he took and he kissed the book

Oh poor Johnny what’ll happen to ya?

The recruiting sergeant marched away

From the Inn near town at the break of day

Johnny came too with half a ring

He was off to be a soldier to go fighting for the King

In a far off war in a far off land

To face the foreign soldier

But how will you fare when there’s lead in the air

Oh poor Johnny what’ll happen to ya?

Well the sun rose high on a barren land

Where the thin red line made a military stand

There was sling shot, chain shot, grape shot too

Swords and bayonets thrusting through

Poor Johnny fell but the day was won

And the King is grateful to ya

But your soldiering’s done and they’re sending you home

Oh poor Johnny what’ll happen to ya?

They said he was a hero and not to grieve

For the two ruined legs and the empty sleeve

They took him home and they set him down

With a military pension and a medal from the crown

But you haven’t an arm, you haven’t a leg

The enemy nearly slew ya

You’ll have to go out on the streets to beg

Oh poor Johnny what’ll happen to ya?

A recruiting sergeant came our way

From the inn near town at the close of day

He said my Johnny you’re a fine young man

Would you like to march along behind a military band

With a scarlet coat and a fine cocked hat

And a musket at your shoulder

The shilling he took and he kissed the book

Oh poor Johnny what will happen to ya?

O Polly love, O Polly, the route has now begun

And we must go a-marching to the beating of a drum

Come dress yourself all in your best and come along with me

I’ll take you to the cruel wars in High Germany

O Harry, dearest Harry, mind well what I do say

My feet they are so tender and I cannot march away

Besides, my dearest Harry, I am with child by thee

Not fitted for the cruel wars in High Germany

I’ll buy you a horse, my love, and on it you shall ride

And all of my delight shall be walking at your side

We’ll stop at every alehouse and drink when we are dry

Be true to one another, get married by and by

O cursed be the cruel wars, that ever they should rise

And out of merry England, press many a man likewise

They took her Harry from her, likewise her brothers three

And sent them to the cruel wars in High Germany