II
“But when we get the route,
How they pout
And they shout
While to the right about
Goes the bowld sojer boy.
Oh, 'tis then that ladies fair
In despair
Tear their hair,
But 'the divil-a-one I care,'
Says the bowld sojer boy.
For the world is all before us,
Where the landladies adore us,
And ne'er refuse to score us,
But chalk us up with joy;
We taste her tap,
We tear her cap'—
'Oh, that's the chap
For me!'
Says she;
'Oh, isn't he a darling, the bowld sojer boy.'