Barrack Room Ballads

Troopin'

   (Our Army in the East)

   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.