Where me and my Annie so often have been
When the hours flew past us, right happy were we,
It was little she thought that a soldier I'd be
But it's farewell to Annie and I must away
For the King he needs soldiers and I must obey.
But if providence proves kind, love, until I return
I will wed with dear Annie near Calder's clear burn
On the 14th of August our regiment was lost
And a ball from the enemy our lines came across
It struck me in the temple and the blood trickled down
I reeled and I staggered and I fell to the ground.
"Come here," says our captain, "come here with good speed
For I fear by this bullet, young Dinsmore, lies dead."
Two men with a stretcher did quickly prepare,
And they carried me away to a hospital there.
Cold water and brandy they poured out so free,
They turned me all over my wounds for to see.
But if I had my Annie to bind up my wounds
One kiss from her sweet lips would soon deaden the stoun.
And it's when I am weary and think on lang syne
When I was a miner and wrought in the mine
Oh, the tears they do trickle and down they do fall
like the roses that bloom around bonny Woodhall.
Contributed by Bernart Bartleby - 2018/3/30 - 11:55
B.B. - 2018/3/30 - 14:19
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