I once was a maid, though I cannae tell when,
And still my delight is in proper young men.
Some one o' a troop o' dragoons was ma daddie;
No wonder I'm fond o' a young sodger laddie.
Sing fol de rol, lol de rol,
Lol de rol laddie.
The first o' my loves was a swaggerin' blade;
Tae rattle the thunderin' drum was his trade.
His leg was sae tight and his cheek was sae ruddy,
Transported was I wi' my sodger laddie.
But the godly auld chaplain left him in the lurch,
And the sword I forsook for the sake o' the church.
He ventured the soul and I risked the body;
'Twas then I proved fause tae my sodger laddie.
Full soon I grew sick o' my sanctified sot;
Tae the reg'ment at large for a husband I got.
Frae the gilded spontoon tae the fife I was ready;
I asked for nae mair but a young sodger laddie.
But the peace it reduced me tae beg in despair
Till I met my auld body at Cunningham Fair.
His rags regimental, they fluttered sae gaudy,
My hairt it rejoiced at my sodger laddie.
And now I hae lived -- and I know not how lang --
And still I can joy in a cup or a song.
But whilst with both hands I can haud the glass steady,
Here's tae thee, my love, my ain sodger laddie.