1

Will by Mary sad reposes
On a bank of prim-a-roses.
Sore is William's heart at leaving,
Tears that flow tell Mary's grieving,
Sweet, Farewell! Dearest, farewell, farewell!
I'm in the marching order.

2

Hark! I hear the Colonel crying,
Drums are beating, colours flying.
Colours flying, drums are beating,
Boys! advance, there's no retreating
Sweet, farewell! &c.

3

Gallant boys! be stiff and steady,
Each man have his flint-lock ready!
Each man have his flask and powder!
And his fire stock o'er his shoulder!
Sweet, farewell! &c.

4

Mary said, Do not bereave me!
Do not break my heart and leave me!
If you do, I will torment you,
When I'm dead, my ghost will ha'nt you
Sweet, farewell! &c.

5

Nay, said William, my dear Mary
I with you nowise can tarry.
Duty calls—that naught can alter
At its summons none must falter.
Sweet, farewell! &c.