BALLAD. (Madam, you know my trade is war)

Madam, you know my trade is war, And what should I deny it for? Whene'er the trumpet sounds from far, I long to hack and hew;

Yet, madam, credit what I say, Were I this moment call'd away, And all the troops drawn in array, I'd rather stay with you.

Did drums and sprightly trumpets sound, Did Death and Carnage stalk around, Did dying horses bite the ground, Had we no hope in view:

Were the whole army lost in smoke, Were they the last words that I spoke, I'd say, and dam'me if I joke, I'd rather stay with you.

Did the foe charge us front and rear, Did e'en the bravest face appear Impress'd with signs of mortal fear, Though never veteran knew

So terrible and hot a fight, Though all my laurels it should blight, Though I should lose so fine a sight, I'd rather stay with you.