Oh, I'm a light cavalry trooper so trim

I stand five foot seven, I'm slender of limb;

I'm small in the waist and not big in the bone,

And yet for all that, Sir, I ride twenty stone.

With my tol de rol lol.

I've a chako that won't stay a-top of my pate;

I've a stiff leather stock for to keep my head straight:

My jacket is tight, and my overalls too;

And to turn round is more than I'd venture to do.

With my tol de rol lol.

I'm all buckles and buttons, and brass-work and belts;

When we trot, my horse blows — when we gallop, he melts;

And as with long stirrups we're forced for to ride,

I can't shift my weight on his back if I tried.

With my tol de rol lol.

My carbine to look at is all you'd desire,

But it's too long to load, and too heavy to fire.

I've two pistols besides, but, for taking a shot,

One light COLT's revolver were worth the whole lot.

With my tol de rol lol.

I've a beautiful sabretash dangling at heel;

I've a sword, and to blunt it a scabbard of steel;

And to tire my sword-arm, if all else chance to fail,

On each of my shoulders I've got a brass scale.

With my tol de rol lol.

With any light troops in the world I will show,

As a beauty to look at, a bad'un to go.

In short, I'm turn'd out, as the Horse Guards may boast,

For the minimum work, at the maximum cost.

With my tol de rol lol.

But there's one thing the Horse Guards can't do, try their beat,

That's muzzle the pluck in an Englishman's breast.

To cripple the soldier they've done what they can,

Balaklava will show they've not damaged the man.

With my tol de rol lol.

Then here's pensions and peace to Peninsular men,

And more power to big JACOB OMNIUM's pen:

Here's GENERAL GOOD SENSE vice GENERAL ROUTINE,

And here's up with old England and God save the QUEEN!

With my tol de rol lol.