When commissariat's low; a mother's heart,
A widowed mother, too, he knows, sore longs
To see her lads, e'en if she willing sends
Them all to serve the King. I don't forget him
Morning and night, and many a time between.
No wine? Too soon? Well, take this drop along.
There's many a mile where no fresh water is,
And you'll be faint—
[She bursts into tears.
Good lan', I cannot bear to see you go.