We march’d from the camps with our hearts full of woe,

On board of the transports we forc’d were to go;

No drums they did beat, nor no trumpets did sound,

In silence and sadness we trudg’d o’er the ground.

No more on our horses we’ll prance o’er the plain,

For they drive us away like sheep to be slain;

Our friends and acquaintance we leave on the shore,

And we’ll never be seen in Old England more.

When arm’d, on our horses away we did ride,

All ran to see Beaumont’s Light Horsemen parade;

But all these fine times are with us now all o’er,

For we shall return to Old England no more.

We listed for horsemen, our country to save,

They told us fine stories of Beaumont the brave;

But now he has sold us to add to his store,

And transported from England to come back no more.

We mounted our horses and rode through the town,

We hid us in holes, and our guns we laid down;

Now see the Newcastle folks drive away fears,

And now see the brav’ry of their Volunteers.

God save our noble king, and long may he reign,

And send him brave soldiers, his rights to maintain;

But do not deceive them, keep them on your shore,

That they may defend you ’till time is no more.

Farewell to all camps, and farewell to all towns,

We go off all footmen, no more like dragoons;

For hard is our fate, and it grieves us full sore,

Then farewell, dear England, we’ll see thee no more.

Farewell to our wives, and our sweethearts likewise;

Tho’ we’re driven to battle yet we’ll bullets despise;

And if its our fortune to return once again,

We’ll bring store of riches, and bid adieu to the main.