TROOPIN’

Troopin’, troopin’, troopin’ to the sea: ‘ Ere's September come again — the six-year men are free. O leave the dead be'ind us, for they cannot come away To where the ship's a-coalin’ up that takes us‘ ome today.

We're goin’‘ ome, we're goin’‘ ome, Our ship is at the shore, An’ you must pack your‘ aversack, For we wo n't come back no more.

Ho, do n't you grieve for me, My lovely Mary-Ann, For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit As a time-expired man.

The Malabar's in‘ arbour with the Jumner at‘ er tail, An’ the time-expired's waitin’ of‘ is orders for to sail. Ho! the weary waitin’ when on Khyber‘ ills we lay, But the time-expired's waitin’ of‘ is orders‘ ome today.

They'll turn us out at Portsmouth wharf in cold an’ wet an’ rain, All wearin’ Injian cotton kit, but we will not complain; They'll kill us of pneumonia — for that's their little way — But damn the chills and fever, men, we're goin’‘ ome today!

Troopin’, troopin’, winter's round again! See the new draf's pourin’ in for the old campaign; Ho, you poor recruities, but you've got to earn your pay — What's the last from Lunnon, lads? We're goin’ there today.

Troopin’, troopin’, give another cheer — ‘ Ere's to English women an’ a quart of English beer. The Colonel an’ the regiment an’ all who've got to stay, Gawd's mercy strike‘ em gentle — Whoop! we're goin’‘ ome today.

We're goin’‘ ome, we're goin’‘ ome, Our ship is at the shore, An’ you must pack your‘ aversack, For we wo n't come back no more.

Ho, do n't you grieve for me, My lovely Mary-Ann, For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit As a time-expired man.