It was last Monday morning Oh as I have heard them say Our orders, they came this afternoon We′re bound to march away
Chorus (after each verse): For the Lancashire lads have gone abroad Whatever shall we do? They're leaving many′s a pretty fair maid To cry, "What shall I do?"
Said the mother to the daughter "What makes you talk so strange? That you want to marry a soldier lad And the whole wide world to range
For the soldiers, they are ramblin' boys They have but little pay Can they maintain a wife and child On fifteen pence day?"
Said the father to the daughter "I'll have you close confined You′ll never marry a soldier lad He′ll be no son of mine"
"Oh if you confine me seven long years And after set me free I'll go and I′ll follow m' soldier lad When I gain my liberty
For my true love′s dressed in scarlet And turned up with the blue And every place that he goes in My sweetheart is true"
Now we've gotten sweethearts enough, brave boys Girls to please our minds But we′ll never forget sweet Manchester And the girls we left behindTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
