MEN OF HARLECH

Fierce the beacon's light is flaming
With its tongues of fire proclaiming
Chieftains, sundered to your shaming
Strongly now unite

At her call, all Arfon rallies
War cries rend her hills and vallies
Troop on troop, with headlong sallies
Hurtle to the fight

Chiefs lie dead and wounded.
Yet, where first was grounded,
Freedom's flag still holds the crag;
Her trumpet still is sounded.

There we'll keep her banner flying,
While the pale lips of the dying
Echo to our shouts defying
Harlech for the right!

Shall the Saxon army shake you
Smite, pursue and overtake you?
Men of Harlech, God will make you
Victors, blow for blow.

The swollen rivers of Eryri
Sweep the vale with flooded fury
Gwalia from her mountain eryie
Thunders on the foe.

Now avenging Briton,
Smite as he has smitten
Let your rage on history's page
In Saxon blood be written.

His lance is long, but yours is longer.
Strong his sword, but yours is stronger.
One stroke more, and now your wronger
At your feet, lies low.

OVER THE HILLS & FAR AWAY

Our 'prentice Tom may now refuse
To wipe his scoundrel Master's Shoes,
For now he's free to sing and play
Over the Hills and far away.
Over the Hills and O'er the Main,
To Flanders, Portugal and Spain,
King George commands and we'll obey
Over the Hills and far away.

We all shall lead more happy lives
By getting rid of brats and wives
That scold and bawl both night and day
Over the Hills and far away.
Over the Hills and O'er the Main,
To Flanders, Portugal and Spain,
King George commands and we'll obey
Over the Hills and far away.

Courage, boys, 'tis one to ten,
But we return all gentlemen
All gentlemen as well as they,
Over the hills and far away.
Over the Hills and O'er the Main,
To Flanders, Portugal and Spain,
King George commands and we'll obey
Over the Hills and far away.

BRITISH GRENADIERS

Some talk of Alexander,
And some of Hercules
Of Hector and Lysander,
And such great names as these.
But of all the world's great heroes,
There's none that can compare
With a tow, row, row, row, row, row,
To the British Grenadier.

Those heroes of antiquity
Ne'er saw a cannon ball
Or knew the force of powder
To slay their foes withal.
But our brave boys do know it,
And banish all their fears,
Sing tow, row, row, row, row, row,
For the British Grenadier.

Whene'er we are commanded
To storm the palisades
Our leaders march with fusees,
And we with hand grenades.
We throw them from the glacis,
About the enemies' ears.
Sing tow, row, row, row, row, row,
The British Grenadiers.

And when the siege is over,
We to the town repair
The townsmen cry, "Hurra, boys,
Here comes a Grenadier!
Here come the Grenadiers, my boys,
Who know no doubts or fears!
Sing tow, row, row, row, row, row,
To the British Grenadiers.

Then let us fill a bumper,
And drink a health to those
Who carry caps and pouches,
And wear the louped clothes.
May they and their commanders
Live happy all their years
With a tow, row, row, row, row, row,
For the British Grenadiers.

THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME

The hours sad I left a maid
A lingering farewell taking
Whose sighs and tears my steps delayed
I thought her heart was breaking
In hurried words her name I blest
I breathed the vows that bind me
And to my heart in anguish pressed
The girl I left behind me

Then to the east we bore away
To win a name in story
And there where dawns the sun of day
There dawned our sun of glory
The place in my sight
When in the host assigned me
I shared the glory of that fight
Sweet girl I left behind me

Though many a name our banner bore
Of former deeds of daring
But they were of the day of yore
In which we had no sharing
But now our laurels freshly won
With the old one shall entwine me
Singing worthy of our size each son
Sweet girl I left behind me

The hope of final victory
Within my bosom burning
Is mingling with sweet thoughts of thee
And of my fond returning
But should I n'eer return again
Still with thy love i'll bind me
Dishonors breath shall never stain
The name I leave behind me

SHULE AROON

Here I sit on Buttermilk Hill
Who can blame me, cryin' my fill
And ev'ry tear would turn a mill,
Johnny has gone for a soldier.

Me, oh my, I loved him so,
Broke my heart to see him go,
And only time will heal my woe,
Johnny has gone for a soldier.

I'll sell my rod, I'll sell my reel,
Likewise I'll sell my spinning wheel,
And buy my love a sword of steel,
Johnny has gone for a soldier.

I'll dye my dress, I'll dye it red,
And through the streets I'll beg for bread,
For the lad that I love from me has fled,
Johnny has gone for a soldier.