When Jonny comes marching home again,
hurrah, hurrah.
When Jonny comes marching home again,
hurrah, hurrah.
They all will cheer and they all will shout,
the ladies they will all turn out
and we’ll all feel gay when Jonny comes marching home.
You haven’t an arm, you haven’t a leg,
a-roo, a-roo.
You haven’t an arm, you haven’t a leg,
a-roo, a-roo.
You haven’t an arm, you haven’t a leg,
they sent you home with a wooden peg
and we’ll all feel gay when Jonny comes marching home.
The Captain had lost his bowels last month,
oo-rah, oo-rah.
The Captain had lost his bowels last month,
oo-rah, oo-rah.
he lost all his bowels as he called a charge.
He faced all their cannons both small and large,
but we’ll still seem gay when Jonny comes marching home.
Your brother was he that you fought at last,
a-roo, a-roo.
Your brother was he that you fought at last,
a-roo, a-roo.
Your brother was he who you fought at last,
you tore through his heart with a musket blast,
yet they’ll still be gay when Jonny comes marching home.
Your brother had fought for the north and died,
hurrah, hurrah.
Your brother had fought for the north and died,
hurrah, hurrah.
Your brother had fought for the north and died,
when told that you killed him your mother cried,
but she’ll still be gay when Jonny comes marching home.
Comments
Jonnys Marching Home, eh?
Just a whim. I came by and saw this. Wesley, you've moved it up
the graphic scale. Are you pleased?
Sue....
A sad song
dear sir and a different style from yours.
Your writing lately is getting a cool emotional touch, which I really like.
Talking about punctuation, I always noticed an exclamation mark coming after the words you've repeatedly used, "Hurray!" "oo-rah!" ...etc. But sure you know better the meaning intended.
Thanks for sharing.
If only,
If only the writers of that day could have been so honest, then just maybe the song could have gotten through some thick heads. And people would realise there's no honour or pride to be taken from mass murder. Great write Regards Roscoe.
Well thank you very much.
And thank you for nosing around my attic. I must warn you however, there lurks in this attic a fearsome thing. Something to be come across by accident and then... well. It will be in a box labeled "Epopee" if it can still be read. Inside is some 24,000 lines and counting. Perhaps a quarter of the beginning has been posted here.
There is much I would have you read (being an ego driven mad poet), but that is not for the faint of heart.
Romantic, fantasy, adventure is not everyone's cuppa.
If you turn your coffee cup upside down
and the coffee falls out immediately... the coffee isn't ready.
Byronic huh? My personal favorite... even before Bill.
Don't call me names until you have read at least the first canto of my epic poem. The little stuff is not what I write, but I frighten poets with the sheer immensity of what I really do.
You have been warned, but I still double doggone dare you.
Caco, Man of the Morning Star, Part One: Harsh, The Protasis, Canto One w/summary.
http://www.neopoet.com/workshop/poems/%C3%A7a%C3%A7%C3%B4-man-morning-s…