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作曲 : Traditional arranged by David Kincaid |
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When old Virginia took the field |
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and wanted men torally on, |
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To be at once a sword and shield, |
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She formed her First Battalion. |
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Although her sons were volunteers, |
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And brave as ever bore a brand, |
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The good old lady had her fears, |
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that they'd prove but weak of hand |
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She therefore wisely cast about |
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For men of mettle and of mould, |
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With nerve of steel and muscle stout, |
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Like those that lived in days of old. |
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She wanted men of pluck and might, |
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Of fiery heart and horny hand, |
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To wield a pick as well as fight, |
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Or build a breastwork out of sand. |
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Or should she march to meet the foe |
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That threatened on her western border, |
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She wanted willing men to go, |
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When told to put her roads in order. |
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Or should the Volunteers retreat, |
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With baggage that might make them tarry, |
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'Twould blunt the edge of their defeat |
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To bear a hand and help them carry. |
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Or should some die of fell disease, |
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The surgeons having failed to save, |
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Sure men who work with so much ease, |
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Would volunteer to dig a grave! |
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For these, and reasons quite as sound, |
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When Old Virginia went to war, |
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She circumspectly viewed the ground |
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And plumped the middle man from taw! |
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In other words, to change the figure, |
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When she stood up and took her rifle, |
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And put her finger on the trigger, |
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She meant to work, and not to trifle. |
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And standing thus, yet wanting then |
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Some regulars to rally on, |
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She took three hundred Irishmen |
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And formed her First Battalion. |
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And when the storm of battle sweeps, |
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Where fiercest foemen sally on, |
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There, hard at work, or piled in heaps, |
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She'll find her bold Battalion! |
