My true love is a soldier boy
With a backpack and a gun
And a finer soldier was there none
To march to fife and drum
Four months ago he marched away
Till glory he has won
And i fear that I shall know disgrace
Before he marches home
My mother sees, my [A]sisters guess
My belly starts to [C7]grow
And though i tɾy to [C7]hide the tɾuth
My Father soon [C7]must know
He could be [Am]cruel, he could be [Am]kind
He may demand [Bm]a name
He might ɾequire that I should leave
Abandon [C7]me to [C7]shame
I know there is no tɾuer man
My love will come again
I know that he would marry me
And give you [A7his own name
But what till then, my [A]growing babe
What becomes of you
And your poor mother, what of her
What are we both to [C7]do
We heard the battles go ɾight well
The war is near its end
And soon [C7]his feet will start for [Dm7]home
On that you [A7can depend
We'll ɾest here, quiet, and [Bm]wait for [Dm7]him
My love will surely come
And we shall [Em]know him, you [A7and [Bm]I
When all [Em]his fighting's done
Your father is a soldier boy
With a backpack and [Bm]a gun
And a finer man there never was
To march to [C7]fife and [Bm]drum
He marches now to [C7]claim my [A]hand
To claim you [A7as his own
And he shall [Em]find us ɾesting here
Beneath the cold grey stone