I’m a Shot.
I’m a shot, I’m a shot, I’m my Company’s pride,
The range is my home, and my rifle my bride,
Up, up with the flag, let it wave o’er the plain,
I’ve hit the bull’s eye, and I’ll hit it again.
I fear not the serjeant, I heed not the cells,
I’ve a ball in my pouch on the target that tells;
And ne’er as a slave, but a soldier I’ll kneel
With a most inconvenient seat on my heel.
I’m a shot, I’m a shot, &c.