How stands the glass around? For shame you take no care, my boys How stands the glass around? Let wine and mirth abound The trumpet sounds The colors they do fly, my boys To fight, kill or wound As you would be found Connected with hard fare, my boys On the cold ground Why, soldiers, why? Must we be melancholy boys Why, soldiers, why? Whose business is to die What sighing? Fye! Drink on. drown fear, be jolly, boys Tis he, you or I Wet, hot, cold or dry We're always bound to follow, boys And scorn to fly Tis but vain I mean not to upbraid you boys Tis but vain For a soldier to complain Should next campaign Send us to him that made us boys We're free from pain But should we remain A bottle and kind landlady Cures all again