I am going to be a Soldier Jenny.
In going for a soldier, Jenny,
Going o'er the rolling sea,
They've given me a golden guinea,
That they say has listed me.
'Tis no use to fall a crying,
Give your senseless weeping o'er,
Many a day you have heard me sighing
You should have been kind before.
'Tis very fine and pretty, Jenny,
Now to wish that I should stay,
But, indeed, I'm thinking, Jenny,
We'll not meet this many a day.
What if heart and spirit sinking ?
What if I should come to shame?
Be it as it may, I'm thinking,
You alone will be to blame.
Long and dearly I have loved you,
As you must full well have known,
If I had not faithless proved you,
I had never reckless grown:
But, fare you well, the hours are flying
Time it is that I was gone, trying,
When next another heart you are
Jenny, look unto your own.
Ye braw decent women I'll sing you a song ,
Of the wit of the auld and the pride of the young,
They are all grown sae gaudy, as lure as my life,
You'll hardly ken the servant frae the guidwife.
Down, down, hey derry down.
It's not of farmers' daughters nor tradesmens' indeed,
In which I intend to sing my new creed,
It's of servant lasses that are getting sae braw,
That they outstrip their mistresses far and awa.
Their is some exceptions, I must confess,
I mean in behaviour, not in their dress,
For they dress all alike, and like dandies they go
And some of them are decent and some of them no,
Between six and seven the Miss goes to school,
Before she knows she is wise, or that she's a fool
There she learns to count and to write,
Till she's fi t for a lawyer or something such like.
When schooling is over, to service she goes,
And then for high wages as you may suppose,
The first of it goes for a white muslin gown,
And a bonnet that would keep moonlight frae the town.
And down the bonnet their hangs a bit silk,
Which my old granny had serving her milk,
I own it was useful her beauty to grace,
For it hid all the wrinkles that was in her face.
She then decks herself like a ship in full sail,
The ribbons as broad as the green leaves o' kail;
With that and the vail hanging over her e'en,
That there's not a wrinkle at all to be seen.
She curls up her hair like a water-dogs tail,
Roll'd up in paper as round as a snail;
The very first Sunday the vail goes on,
One says to another, what is she, yon?
Then on Sunday she goes to the church,
But what she hears there she does not mind much
Neither the text nor the psalm she will mind on,
But she'll mind very well what her neighbours had on.
At balls and meetings she will rant and rove
And every new meeting she'll get a new love:
But with her gallanting ere three years go round,
Her state alters suddently her bonnet goes down.
Syne after they're married away the chield goes,
And leaves the poor creature in sorrow and woes
And away to America then he does trip,
And leaves the poor miss thip shaft to lick.
Then she's confined like a cow to the grass.
And bonnet laid down with the gown, vail, and dress;
The cradle she rocks, while the wean it does roar,
And she greives at the thing that she laughed at before.
The sea was brigh and the bark rode well,
The breeze bore the tone of the vesper bell,
'Twas a gallant bark with a crew as brave
As ever launched on a heaving mave,
She shone in the light of declining day,
And each sail was set, and each heart was gay
They neared the land where beauty smiles,
The sunny shores of the Greacian isles,
All thought of home and that welcome dear
That soon should great each wanderer's ear,
And in fancy joined the social throng,
And the festive dance and the joyous song.
A white cloud flies through the azure sky,
What means that wild despairing cry,
Farewell the visioned scenes of home!
That cry is "help !" where no help can come;
For the white squall rides on the surging wave
And the barks i gulph'd in an ocean grav
The flowers are blooming Katty Darling,
And the birds are singing on each tree,
Never mind your mother's cruel snarling,
My love you know I'm waiting for thee!
The sun is sweetly smiling,
With his face so clear and bright,
Haste to your lover, Katty Darling,
Ere the morning will change to night
The flowers are blooming, &c.
Meet mei n the valley, Katty Darling,
When the moon is shining o'er the sea,
Oh, meet me near the stream, Katty Darling,
And tales of love I'll tell unto thee;
When the twinkling stars are peeping,
Sure those eyes shine far more bright,
Oh, meet me in the valley, Katty Darling,
And our vows of love we'll pledge to-night
Katty Darling, &c.
View Commentary | Download PDF Facsimile
Probable period of publication:
1860-1880 shelfmark: L.C.Fol.70(143)
View larger image