The CAMP MEDLEY

The Lark was up, the morn was grey, The Drummers beat reveille; The jolly soldiers on the ground, In peaceful camp slept safe and sound:

Only one poor soldier who, Nought but love could e'er subdue; Wand'ring thro' the silent grove, There to vent his plaintive love.

For women are whimsical, changeable things, Their sweets, like the bees, they are mingled with stings, They're not to be got without toil, care and cost, They're hard to be got and are easily lost. For in seeking a fair one, I found to my smart, I know not the way, but I lost my own heart.

Ah, hapless, hapless day, When first I saw fair Biddy! My heart she stole away, My head she turn'd quite giddy. The world may laugh, and say, 'Tis wond'rous new to see A lover so sincere, A swain admire like me.

She's comely, tall, and slender, She's brighter than the sun: Her looks are kind and tender, But ah her heart's like stone, Too lovely still I found her, And every method tried, In hopes to win and wound her, Yet still I was deny'd.

But now my hopes are over, What scheme then can I try? But like a hapless lover, Now lay me down and die. As on the ground he lay, Minerva came that way, In armour bright and gay, And thus to him did say:

Rise, soldier, rise, I'll take you by the hand, And I'll lead you thro' the land, I'll give you the command, Of a well-chosen band.

Rise, soldier, rise, Don't be stupid, Drive away Cupid, Follow Minerva's wise command.

Soldier, go home, Go home, ne'er mind your mistress's scorn; Slight, slight her again, For slighted love shou'd slight return.

The soldier then raised from his amorous sloth, Hasted away to his duty, Swore to Minerva a terrible oath, He never wou'd think of her beauty. Bachelor bluff, Bachelor bluff, Hey for a heart that is tougher than buff.

He that is single can never wear horns, He that is single is happy; He that is married lays upon thorns, And always is ragged and shabby. Bachelor bluff, &c,

He that is single, he fears not the rout, Nothing to him can be sweeter; Having no wife that can whimper and pout, And cry can you leave me, dear creature. Bachelor bluff, &c.

Ye belles and flirts, so smart and so fair, Say, are not soldiers form'd for love? I'm sure you'll find them all sincere, Wou'd you but kind and constant prove.

But if you slight their passion still, And tyrannize, their wills to prove, Depend upon't, they'll all rebel, And will not give a thought to love.

Hold your prating, idle tongue. (Little laughing Cupid said) Have you never heard it sung, Constancy must win the maid?

Then ground your arms, ye sons of war, Who shine thro' Britain's happy Isle; Nor ever quarrel with the fair, But patient try to win their smile. Rule, ye fair, ye fair of Britain's isle, We'll patient try to win their smile.