Bonus Content: Cruel Wars

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Lyrics
A recruiting sergeant came our way From an inn near town at the close of day He said my Johnny you're a fine young man Would you like to march along behind a military band

With a scarlet coat and a fine cocked hat And a musket at your shoulder The shilling he took and he kissed the book Oh poor Johnny what'll happen to ya?

The recruiting sergeant marched away From the inn near town at the break of day Johnny came too with half a ring He was off to be a soldier to go fighting for the Queen

In a far off war in a far off land To face the foreign soldier But how will you fare when there's lead in the air Oh poor Johnny what'll happen to ya?

Well the sun rose high on a barren land Where the thin red line made a military stand There was sling shot, chain shot, grape shot too Swords and bayonets thrusting through

Poor Johnny fell but the day was won And the Queen is grateful to ya But your soldiering's done and they're sending you home Oh poor Johnny what'll happen to ya?

They said he was a hero and not to grieve For the two ruined legs and the empty sleeve They took him home and they set him down With a military pension and a medal from the crown

But you haven't an arm, you haven't a leg The enemy nearly slew ya You'll have to go out on the streets to beg Oh poor Johnny what'll happen to ya?

A recruiting sergeant came our way From the inn near town at the close of day He said my Johnny you're a fine young man Would you like to march along behind a military band

With a scarlet coat and a fine cocked hat And a musket at your shoulder The shilling he took and he kissed the book Oh poor Johnny what will happen to ya?

O Molly love, O Molly, the rout has now begun And we must go a-marching to the beating of a drum Come dress yourself all in your best and come along with me I'll take you to the cruel wars in High Orcyria

O Corzin, dearest Corzin, mark well what I do say My feet they are so tender and I cannot march away Besides, my dearest Corzin, I am with child by thee Not fitted for the cruel wars in High Orcyria

I'll buy you a horse, my love, and on it you shall ride And all of my delight shall be walking at your side We'll stop at every alehouse and drink when we are dry Be true to one another, get married by and by

O cursed be the cruel wars, that ever they should rise And out of merry Brighthall, press many a man likewise They took her true love from her, likewise her brothers three And sent them to the cruel wars in High Orcyria