We Soldiers Drink, We Soldiers Sing

We soldiers drink, we soldiers sing; We fight our foes, and love our king, Are ever brisk and jolly; We know no care in peace or war; We ask no wealth but fame and health, A knapsack and a Dolly.

When mirth invites, we seldom think; When honour calls, we never shrink; But scorning melancholy, Alert and gay, we march away To foreign parts with cheerful hearts, A knapsack and a Dolly.

If doom'd to fall, the good and brave Will dew with tears their soldiers grave. Thus sadness is a folly; His dauntless sword fame will record, His comrade dear will prize and cheer, His knapsack and his Dolly.

Then come, my noble heroes, come, With sprightly fife and echoing drum, With minds elate and jolly; Let's take the field, nor ever yield To fortunes frowns, 'till conquest crowns Our knapsack and our Dolly.