From Sharpe’s Magazine, 1829.
Song of a Rifleman.
I’d be a Rifleman, gallant and gay,
Longest and last at the banquet or ball;
Waltzing, Quadrilling, and flirting away,
Constant to none, yet a favourite with all.
True to the opera, concert, or play,
I’d never languish for wedlock’s dull thrall;
I’ll be a Rifleman, gallant and gay,