“I don't wonder, gentlemen, at your not receiving that as truth--I told you it was incredible--in short, that is the reason I have resisted all temptations to publish. Murray, Longmans, Colburn, Bentley, ALL the publishers have offered me unlimited terms, but I have always refused--not that I am a rich man, which makes the temptation of the thousands I might realise the harder to withstand; 't is not that the gold is not precious to me, but there is something dearer to me than gold--_it is my character for veracity!_ and therefore, as I am convinced the public would not believe the wonders I have witnessed, I confine the recital of my adventures to the social circle. But what profession affords such scope for varied incident as that of the soldier? Change of clime, danger, vicissitude, love, war, privation one day, profusion the next, darkling dangers, and sparkling joys! Zounds! there's nothing like the life of a soldier! and, by the powers! I'll give you a song in its praise.”
The proposition was received with cheers, and Tom rattled away these ringing rhymes--
“Oh there's not a trade that's going Worth showing, Or knowing, Like that from glory growing, For a bowld sojer boy; Where right or left we go, Sure you know, Friend or foe Will have the hand or toe From a bowld sojer boy! There's not a town we march thro', But the ladies, looking arch thro' The window-panes, will search thro' The ranks to find their joy; While up the street, Each girl you meet, Will look so sly, Will cry 'My eye! Oh, isn't he a darling, the bowld sojer boy!'
“But when we get the route, How they pout And they shout While to the right about Goes the bowld sojer boy. Oh, 'tis then that ladies fair In despair Tear their hair, But 'the divil-a-one I care,' Says the bowld sojer boy. For the world is all before us, Where the landladies adore us, And ne'er refuse to score us, But chalk us up with joy; We taste her tap, We tear her cap'-- 'Oh, that's the chap For me!' Says she; 'Oh, isn't he a darling, the bowld sojer boy.'
“'Then come along with me, Gramachree, And you'll see How happy you will be With your bowld sojer boy; 'Faith! if you're up to fun, With me run; 'T will be done In the snapping of a gun,' Says the bowld sojer boy; 'And 't is then that, without scandal, Myself will proudly dandle The little farthing candle Of our mutual flame, my joy! May his light shine As bright as mine, Till in the line He'll blaze, And raise The glory of his corps, like a bowld sojer boy!'”