They took away my brogues and they robbed me of my spade
They put me in the army and a soldier of me made
But I couldn't beat a drum and I couldn't play a flute
So they handed me a musket and they taught me how to shoot

But the Injuns they were sly,
And the Frenchies they were coy,
So they shot off the left leg
Of this poor Irish boy

We had a bloody fight
After we had scaled the wall,
And the divil a bit of mercy
Did the Frenchies show at all

Then they put me on a ship,
And they sent me home again,
With all my army training,
After battle's strife and din

They headed for the Downs,
And we landed at the quay,
My mother came to meet me,
And these words to me did say,

"O Felix, are you drunk,
Or Felix are you mad?
And whatever has become
Of the two legs you had!"

I will bid my spade adieu,
For I cannot dig the bog,
But I still can play the fiddle,
And I still can drink my grog

I have learned to smoke a pipe
And I've learned to fire a gun,
To the divil with the fighting,
I am glad the war is done

From Traditional American Folk Songs, Warner and Warner
Collected from Lena Bourne Fish
@soldier @war
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