Page:A Selection of Original Songs, Scraps, Etc., by Ned Farmer (3rd ed.).djvu/159



[Written on the Eve of the Russian War, when our brave fellows were so gloriously volunteering for foreign service. The Music may be had at Messrs. Sabin’s, Bull Street, Birmingham.]

a time I’ve lost the lad I love,
 * But I'll dry these selfish tears,

For this swain of mine is gone to join
 * The British volunteers.

And where's a maiden in the land,
 * With soul so cold and mean,

That would not part with the lad of her heart
 * In the service of the Queen.


 * Then sound the trumpet, beat the drum,
 * And let us give nine cheers
 * For each brave soul in the muster roll
 * Of the British Volunteers.

And when at length he shall return,
 * And these dreadful wars are o’er,

I shall sit by his side a smiling bride,
 * And he’ll wander forth no more.

How proud of my good man I'll be,
 * When the neighbours flock to hear

Of the brave deeds done, and the battles won,
 * By the British Volunteer.
 * Then sound the trumpet, &c.