The Tarpaulin Jacket
(words attributed to G. J. Whyte-Melville (1821-1878);air by Charles Coote)
A tall stalwart lancer lay dying,
And as on his deathbed he lay,
To his friends who around him were sighing,
These last dying words he did say:
cho: Wrap me up in my tarpaulin jacket
And say a poor buffer lies low;
And six stalwart lancers shall carry me
With steps solemn, mournful and slow.
Had I the wings of a little dove,
Far far away would I fly; I'd fly
Straight for the arms of my true love
And there I would lay me and die.
cho:
Then get you two little white tombstones
Put them one at my head and my toe, my toe,
And get you a penknife and scratch there:
"Here lies a poor buffer below."
cho:
And get you six brandies and sodas,
And set them all out in a row, a row,
And get you six jolly good fellows
To drink to this buffer below.
cho:
And then in the calm of the twilight
When the soft winds are whispering low, so low,
And the darkening shadows are falling,
Sometimes think of this buffer below.
cho:
From the Scottish Students Songbook, 1929 edition.
A highly derivative (Prisoner's Song, Unfortunate Rake), highly
parodied (The Dying Airman, The Dying Skier, even Fiddlers Green) song
that's still current in the armed forces.
Also see DYINGAIR, FIDGREEN
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