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Sunday, July 31, 2005

Another blast from the past

Hark! Now the drums beat up again,
For all true soldier gentlemen,
Then let us 'list and march I say,
Over the hills and far away.

Chorus
Over the hills and o'er the main.
To Flanders, Portugal, and Spain,
King George commands and we'll obey.
Over the hills and far away.

All gentlemen that have a mind,
To serve the King that's good and kind,
Come 'list and enter into pay,
Then over the hills and far away.

Chorus

Here's forty shillings on the drum,
For those that volunteers do come,
With shirts, and clothes, and present pay,
Then o'er the hills and far away.

Chorus

No more from sound of drums retreat,
While Marlborough and Galway beat,
The French and Spaniards every day,
When o'er the hills and far away.

Chorus

The 'prentice Tom he may refuse,
To wipe his angry master's shoes,
For then he's free to sing and play,
Over the hills and far away.

Chorus

Come on then boys, and you shall see,
We every one shall captains be!
To whore and rant as well as they,
When over the hills and far away.

Chorus

We then shall lead more happy lives,
By getting rid of brats and wives,
That scold on both the night and day,
When over the hills and far away.

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