So fare you well, my darling,
So fare you well, my dear,
Don't grieve for my long absence
While I am present here.
Since it is my misfortune
A soldier for to be,
Oh! try to live contented,
And don't you grieve for me.
I am agoing away to-morrow,
To tarry for a while,
So far from you, my darling,
About five hundred miles.
She wrung her lily white hands,
So mournful she did cry,
You will list as a soldier,
And in the war you will die.
In the battle you will be wounded,
On the field you will be slain,
You will burst my heart asunder
If I never see you again.
The cannons loudly roaring,
The bullets whistling by,
The fife and drum are sounding,
To drown the soldier's cry.
Stand steady by your cannon,
Make balls and grape-shot fly;
Oh! trust in God your Saviour,
And keep your powder dry.
I hope the time is coming,
When you and I will meet;
With words and kisses
We will each other greet.
So fare you well, my dear,
Don't grieve for my long absence
While I am present here.
Since it is my misfortune
A soldier for to be,
Oh! try to live contented,
And don't you grieve for me.
I am agoing away to-morrow,
To tarry for a while,
So far from you, my darling,
About five hundred miles.
She wrung her lily white hands,
So mournful she did cry,
You will list as a soldier,
And in the war you will die.
In the battle you will be wounded,
On the field you will be slain,
You will burst my heart asunder
If I never see you again.
The cannons loudly roaring,
The bullets whistling by,
The fife and drum are sounding,
To drown the soldier's cry.
Stand steady by your cannon,
Make balls and grape-shot fly;
Oh! trust in God your Saviour,
And keep your powder dry.
I hope the time is coming,
When you and I will meet;
With words and kisses
We will each other greet.
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