Lyrics

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 you? 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 you? 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 you But your soldiering's done and they're sending you home Oh, poor Johnny, what'll happen to you? They said he was a hero and not to grieve For the two ruined legs and the empty sleeve 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 you You'll have to go out on the streets and beg Oh, poor Johnny, what'll happen to you? 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 you? Oh, Polly love, oh, 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 Oh, 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
Writer(s): Nicholas Smyth Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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