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

@death

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