The British Bayoneteers

(to the tune of The British Grenadiers)

Eyes right, my jolly field boys,
Who British bayonets bear,
To teach your foes to yield boys,
When British steel they dare!
Now fill the glass, for the toast of toasts
Shall be drunk with the cheer of cheers,
Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!
For the British bayoneteers.

Great guns have shot and shell, boys,
Dragoons have sabres bright.
The artillery fire's like hell, boys,
And the horse like devils fight.
But neither light nor heavy horse
Nor thundering cannoneers,
Can stem the tide of the foeman's pride,
Like the British bayoneteers!

The English arm is strong, boys,
The Irish arm is tough.
The Scotsman's blow the French well know,
Is struck by sterling stuff.
And when before the enemy
Their shining steel appears,
Goodbye! goodbye! how they run, how they run!
From the British bayoneteers!

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