Troopin’

Troopin', troopin', troopin' to the sea: 
'Ere 's September come again — the six-year men are free. 
O leave the dead be'ind us, for they cannot come away 
To where the ship 's a-coalin' up that takes us 'ome to-day. 
       We 're goin' 'ome, we 're goin' 'ome, 
          Our ship is at the shore, 
       An' you must pack your 'aversack, 
             For we won't come back no more. 
       Ho, don't you grieve for me, 
              My lovely Mary-Ann, 
       For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit 
             As a time-expired man. 

The Malabar's in 'arbour with the Jumner at 'er tail, 
An' the time-expired 's waitin' of  'is orders for to sail. 
Ho ! the weary waitin' when on Khyber 'ills we lay, 
But the time-expired 's waitin' of 'is orders 'ome to-day. 

They'll turn us out at Portsmouth wharf in cold an' wet an' rain, 
All wearin' Injian cotton kit, but we will not complain. 
They'll kill us of pneumonia — for that 's their little way — 
But damn the chills and fever, men, we 're goin' 'ome to-day! 

Troopin', troopin', winter's round again ! 
See the new draf 's pourin' in for the old campaign; 
Ho, you poor recruities, but you've got to earn your pay — 
What's the last from Lunnon, lads? We're goin' there to-day.  
Troopin', troopin', give another cheer — 
'Ere's to English women an' a quart of  English beer. 
The Colonel an' the regiment an' all who've got to stay, 
Gawd's mercy strike 'em gentle — Whoop ! we 're goin' 'ome to-day. 
       We 're goin' 'ome, we 're goin' 'ome, 
              Our ship is at the shore, 
       An' you must pack your 'aversack, 
              For we won't come back no more. 
       Ho, don't you grieve for me, 
             My lovely Mary-Ann, 
       For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit 
              As a time-expired man.