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The Recruiting Sergeant
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As I was going along the road and feeling fine and larky O,
A recruiting sergeant trim and neat said you’d look fine in khaki O,
The King he is in need of men just read the proclamation O,
The life in Flanders would be fine, for you it would be vacation O.
That may be true I answered back but tell me Sergeant dearie O,
If I had a pack stuck on my back would I look fine and cheery O
The proclamations are alright I have read the last of French’s O,
Well it might be hot in Flanders but its draughty in the trenches O.
The Sergeant swung his wee bit cane, his smile was most provoking O,
He twirled and twirled his little moustache, says he you’re only joking O,
The sandbags are so fine and high, the wind you won’t find blowing O,
But I winked at a colleen passing by and says I it might be snowing O.
But hail or rain or snow or sun, I’m not going out to Flanders O,
For there’s fighting in Ireland to be done, let your Sergeants and Commanders go.
Let Englishmen for England fight, it’s nearly time they started O,
I bid the Sergeant a fond goodnight and on my way departed O.
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