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The Mullingar Recruit - Irish Folk

The Mullingar Recruit, another anti-recruitment song from the mid 1800s. It describes a young man who 'took the Kings shilling' which was to enlist in the British army. He was then sent to war in India where he looses his legs. Luckily enough it was all a dream in the end and he wakes up safe and sound back home, saying King George can stick his shilling, he's content in Mullingar. Lyrics: It was on one sultry summer's day, while tired of working at the hay, I lay and watched the regiment marching by to foreign wars. And I don't know how it came about, I must have slept, without a doubt, I dreamt I took the shilling that day in Mullingar. Oh, Sergeant, a ghrå mo chroi, won't you swap back again with me, For my old coat and overcoat were warmer by far. And besides my heart would surely break for the friends and neighbors I forsake, And wearing that Highland petticoat, going in to Mullingar. But the sergeant he spoke sharp at me, "You might as well contented be, You went and took the shilling down in MaryAnne Eagan's bar. And as for those you leave behind, you might as well make up your mind-- You went and put your foot in it, this day in Mullingar." It was then I wept with grief and pain, but all my protests were in vain; We marched to Monasterevin with the general in the car. And when we came to Wexford Town, straight to the transport we went down, And sailed away to India, farewell to Mullingar. Though the heat was heavy overhead, we fought till nearly all were dead, From Setlej Lake to Khyber and from there to Kandahar. And those Indians were a savage lot, they gave it to us hard and hot, And I lost both legs to cannon-shot, I sighed for Mullingar. As on the bloody ground I lay, in deep despair, I could not pray, I cursed the day I 'listed and my joy in life did mar. When someone near me gave a shout, I woke right up and looked about. Thank God, I was only dreaming, I was back in Mullingar. I looked around me with delight, I felt my two fine legs, all right. I kissed the sod I lay upon and I thanked my lucky stars. And I swore no soldiering I'd try, unless for Ireland's cause to die, King George may stuff his shilling, I'm content in Mullingar.