Oh hark! The drums do beat, my love, no longer can we 
stay.
The bugle-horns are sounding clear, and we must march 
away.
We're ordered down to Portsmouth, and it's many is the 
weary mile.
To join the British Army on the banks of the Nile.

Oh Willie, dearest Willie, don't leave me here to 
mourn,
Don't make me curse and rue the day that ever I was 
born.
For the parting of our love would be like parting with 
my life.
So stay at home, my dearest love, and I will be your 
wife.

Oh my Nancy, dearest Nancy, sure that will never do.
The government has ordered, and we are bound to go.
The government has ordered, and the Queen she gives 
command.
And I am bound on oath, my love, to serve in a foreign 
land.

with you.
I'll dress myself in uniform, and I'll see Egypt too.
I'll march beneath your banner while fortune it do 
smile,
And we'll comfort one another on the banks of the Nile.

But your waist it is too slender, and your fingers they 
are too small.
In the sultry suns of Egypt your rosy cheeks would 
spoil.
Where the cannons they do rattle, when the bullets they 
do fly,
And the silver trumpets sound so loud to hide the 
dismal cries.

Oh, cursed be those cruel wars, that ever they began,
For they have robbed our country of many's the handsome 
men.
They've robbed us of our sweethearts while their bodies 
they feed the lions,
On the dry and sandy deserts which are the banks of the 
Nile.