It was last Monday morning
Oh as I have heard them say
Our orders, they came this afternoon
We're bound to march away
Chorus (after each verse):
For the Lancashire lads have gone abroad
Whatever shall we do?
They're leaving many's a pretty fair maid
To cry, "What shall I do?"
Said the mother to the daughter
"What makes you talk so strange?
That you want to marry a soldier lad
And the whole wide world to range
For the soldiers, they are ramblin' boys
They have but little pay
Can they maintain a wife and child
On fifteen pence day?"
Said the father to the daughter
"I'll have you close confined
You'll never marry a soldier lad
He'll be no son of mine"
"Oh if you confine me seven long years
And after set me free
I'll go and I'll follow m' soldier lad
When I gain my liberty
For my true love's dressed in scarlet
And turned up with the blue
And every place that he goes in
My sweetheart is true"
Now we've gotten sweethearts enough, brave boys
Girls to please our minds
But we'll never forget sweet Manchester
And the girls we left behind