You are going to be a Militia Man, a valiant volunteer, You think to have a lazy month, and get your swig of beer, You will fight your battles o'er a pipe, and ne'er receive a scar, You dandy fop at home you'll stop, and dare not go to war. When you wear your trowsers grey, and your coat of red or blue, I fear that you will then forget what we may think of you, With musket wrong-side first, and your bayonet Lord knows where, You will be marching like a hero, to make the lasses stare. When the trumpet sounds for glory you'll be gladly rushing in Into some snug old alehouse, to spend your hard-earned tin, And when your tin it is all gone, you'll coax the girls to treat, By whispering marriage in their ears, and giving kisses sweet. I would I were our gracious Queen, or my good Lord Seaham as well, I would send these would-be warriors to a place I dare not tell, All the town should be at peace, and the fellows who compose The Durham Volunteers should find themselves in meat and clothes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ITALIAN PICTURES: THE COSTA SAN GIORGIO by MINA LOY AN AMERICAN IN BANGKOK by KAREN SWENSON A WINTER BLUEJAY by SARA TEASDALE THE OLD MILL by THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH JOHN PELHAM by JAMES RYDER RANDALL LAUS VENERIS by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE OVERTURE TO A DANCE OF LOCOMOTIVES by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS |