Page:Poems of the Great War - Cunliffe.djvu/157

 ��SOLDIER, SOLDIER

Soldier, soldier, off to the war.

Take me a letter to my sweetheart O.

He's gone away to France

With his carbine and his lance,

And a lock of brown hair of his sweetheart 0.

Fair maid of London, happy may you be

To know so much of your sweetheart O.

There's not a handsome lad,

To get the chance he's had.

But would skip, with a kiss for his sweetheart 0.

Soldier, soldier, whatever shall I do

If the cruel Germans take my sweetheart 0?

They'll pen him in the jail

And starve him thin and pale,

With never a kind word from his sweetheart 0.

Fair maid of London, is that all you see

Of the lad you've taken for your sweetheart ?

He'll make his prison ring

With his God Save the King

And his God bless the blue eyes of my sweetheart O I

�� �