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Text by Alfred Edward Housman
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 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.
Tomorrow 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.
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