Come rouse my good fellows to arms,
And follow the sound of the drum,

If you’d cut a fine figure in story;
Inlist in my regiment, come:

For wonderful sums we will promise,
Which we possibly never will pay;

But of this my brave comrades be certain;
You’ll be shot at for sixpence a day.
But of this, &c.

Away with you, silly poor blockheads
Who talk of the blessings of peace,
I’ll prove to you peace is no blessing,
So give over prating and cease;
For war is the only true blessing;
It’s war brings the soldiers in play,

’Tis war gives the brave an occasion,
To be shot at for sixpence a day.
’Tis war, &c.

In peace should you chance to be hungry,
In vain for some victuals you’ll call,
But war gives the soldiers in battle,
A breakfast of powder and ball;

And if once you eat this provision,
You’ll never be hungry again,

For it fills a man’s stomach at once,
And soon puts an end to his pain,
For it fills, &c.

Peace makes a man idle my boys,
And to prove it is wond’rous easy,
For in peace a man’s sure to get rich
And riches will make a man lazy;
But follow my standard, brave boys,
And laziness soon will decay,

For nobody ever got rich,
That was shot at for sixpence a day.
For nobody, &c.

If you live you may chance to grow old,
And with it old age will bring trouble,
When you’ll fold up your arms and look grave,
And exclaim that long life is a bubble,
But be bold, my brave fellows be bold,
Drive the cares of old age far away,
For very few ever grew old,
Who are shot at for sixpence a day.
For very few, &c.

Instead of base sitting at home,
At ease with your children and wives,

I lead you to fight against men,
Who you never saw before in your lives.
When your captains will gain all the glory,
And you all the toil of the fray,
The time now’s to catch at the honour,
To be shot at for sixpence a day.
The time now’s, &c.