Follow the drum

Catnach Broadside dated 1813-38

TWAS in the merry month of May,
When bees from flower to flower did hum,
Soldiers through the town march'd gay,
The village flew to the sound of the drum 
From windows lasses look'd a score,
Neighbours met at every door,
Serjeant twirl'd his sash and story,
And talk'd of wounds, honor, and glory.

'Twas in the merry month, &c.

Roger swore he'd leave his plough,
His team and tillage, all, by gun!
Of a country life he'd had enow—
He'd leave it all and follow the drum.
He'd leave his thrashing in the barn,
To thrash his foes right soon he'd learn,
With sword in hand he would not parley,
But thrash his foes instead of the barley.

The Cobbler he threw by his awl,
When all were glad, he'd ne'er be glum,
But quick attend to glory's call,
And like a man would follow the drum.
No more at home he'd be a slave,
But take his seat amid the brave ;
In battle's seat none should be prouder,
Stead of balls and wax, he'd have balls and powder.

The Tailor he got off his knees,
And to the ranks did boldly come :
He said he ne'er would sit at his ease,
But follow the rest, and follow the drum.
How he'd leather the foes, good Lord !
When he'd a bodkin for a sword,
The French should find he didn't wheedle,
When he'd a spear instead of a needle.

Three Old Women—the first was lame,
The second was blind, and the third nigh dumb,
To stay behind was a burning shame,
They'd follow the men, and follow the drum !
Our wills are good, but lack-a-day,
To catch the soldiers we will try for it,
For where there's a will, there's always a way,
We'll walk a mile or two if we die for them.