V. GRENADIER

The Queen she sent to look for me,

The sergeant he did say,

‘ Young man, a soldier will you be

For thirteen pence a day?’

For thirteen pence a day did I

Take off the things I wore,

And I have marched to where I lie,

And I shall march no more.

My mouth is dry, my shirt is wet,

My blood runs all away,

So now I shall not die in debt

For thirteen pence a day.

To-morrow after new young men

The sergeant he must see,

For things will all be over then

Between the Queen and me.

And I shall have to bate my price,

For in the grave, they say,

Is neither knowledge nor device

Nor thirteen pence a day.