I'll talk of drums, of sword and shield,
And quite forget my petticoat.
When the loud cannon's roar I hear,
And trumpets bray with brazen throat,
With blust'ring, then, I'll hide my fear,
Lest I betray my petticoat.
But ah! how slight the terrors past,
If he on whom I fondly dote,
Is to my arms restored at last;—
Then—give me back my petticoat!