Fotheringay Banks Of The Nile
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.
Oh, but I'll cut off my yellow hair, and I'll go along
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.
