"Who carries the gun?"
A lad from London town.
We'll let him go, for well we know
The stuff that never backs down!
He has learned to joke at the powder smoke,
For he is the fog-smoke's son,
And his heart is light and his pluck is right,
The lad who carries the gun.
For the Colonel rides before,
The Major's on the flank,
The Captains and the Adjutant
Are in the foremost rank.
And when it's "Line to the front!"
And there's fighting to be done,
Come one, come all, you stand or fall
By the man who holds the gun.
"Who carries the gun?"
A lad from over the Tweed!
Then let him go, for well we know
He comes of a soldier breed!
So drink together to rock and heather,
Far out where the red deer run,
And stand aside for Scotland's pride,
The lad who carries the gun!
For the Colonel rides before, etc.
"Who carries the gun?"
A lad from the hills of Wales!
Then let him go, for well we know,
That Taffy's as hard as nails!
There are several Ll's in the place where he dwells,
And of W's more than one,
With a "Llan" and a "Pen," but it breeds good men,
And it's they who carry the gun.
For the Colonel rides before, etc.
"Who carries the gun?"
A lad from the Emerald Isle!
We'll let him go, for well we know,
We've tried him many a while!
We've tried him East, we've tried him West,
We've tried him on sea and land,
But the man to beat old Erin's best
Has never yet been planned!
For the Colonel rides before, etc.