Then, haste, wear a red coat, while your honour’s untainted,
Or to Coventry you may be fated to go;
And tho’ with the plan of removal acquainted,
I’ll not go to Newburn: O no, my love, no.
Soon War from my home may a fugitive send me,
And which way, or how, I’m not anxious to know;
For I’ll follow the lads that are arm’d to defend me:
Shall the task be another’s? O no, my love, no.
Then wear not, my Colin! an aspect so chilling,
Let your breast now with ardour heroic but glow,