Oh hark, the [bad word] do beat, my love, no longer can we stay
The bugle-horns are sounding clear and we must march away
We're ordered down to Portsmouth and it's many is the weary mile
To join the British Army on the banks of the Nile

Oh Willie, dearest Willie, don't leave me here to mourn
Don't make me curse [bad word] the day that ever I was born
For the parting of our love would be like parting with my life
So stay at home, my dearest love, and I will be your wife

Oh my Nancy, dearest Nancy, sure that will never do
The government has ordered, and we are bound to go
The government has ordered, and the Queen she [bad word] 
And I am bound on oath, my love, to serve in a foreign land

Oh, but I'll cut off my yellow hair, and I'll go along with you
I'll dress myself in uniform and I'll see Egypt too
I'll march beneath your banner while fortune it do smile
And [bad word] one another on the banks of the Nile

But your waist it is too slender, and your fingers they are too small
In the sultry suns of Egypt, your rosy cheeks would spoil
Where the cannons they do rattle, when the bullets they do fly
And the silver [bad word] sound, so loud to hide the dismal cries

Oh, cursed be those [bad word] wars, that ever they began
For they have robbed our country of many's the handsome men
They've robbed us of our sweethearts while their bodies they feed the lions
On the dry and sandy deserts which are the banks of the Nile