His heart was full of brave intent,
He started at a trot;
But O, he shivered as he went—
Il n’avait pas de bottes!
Ten thousand strong in legs all bare,
And only in their socks,
Our fellows made the Frenchmen stare,
Yet stood their ground like rocks.
But when the Frenchmen saw the foe,
Our noble Volunteers,
They laughed “Ha, ha!” and yelled “Ho, ho!”
And greeted them with sneers.
“C’est drôle,” they cried; “c’est bien drôle,
Cette armée sans culottes,”
And Alphonse yelled to Anatole,
“Ils n’ont donc pas de bottes.”
The British blushed with bitter shame,
Their feelings were acute,
And, though they were extremely game,
They felt too pained to shoot.
Their wail was borne upon the breeze,
“The foe our army mocks,”
But still the cold benumbed their knees,
The snow soaked through their socks.
And so because they weren’t equipped
As Volunteers should be,
The well-clad Frenchmen by them skipped,
And it was all U P.
O Britons, for your country’s sake,
And all you hold most dear,
A lesson from this story take,
And clothe the Volunteer.
For trousers, boots, and overcoats
To Lord Mayor Whitehead hand
A cheque or Bank of England notes,
And save your native land.