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A tall stalwart Lancer lay dying,
And as on his deathbed he lay, he lay,
To his friends who around him were sighing,
These last dying words he did say:

Wrap me up in my tarpaulin jacket, jacket,
And say a poor buffer lies low, lies low,
And six stalwart lancers shall carry me, carry me,
With steps solemn, mournful, and slow.

Had I the wings of a little dove,
Far, far away would I fly, I'd fly,
Straight for the arms of my true love,
And there would I lay me and die.
Chorus: Wrap me up, etc.

Then get you two little white tombstones,
Put them one at my head and my toe, my toe,
And get you a penknife and scratch there:
"Here lies a por buffer below"
Chorus: Wrap me up, etc.

Ang get you six brandies and sodas,
And set them all out in a row, a row,
And get you six jolly good fellows,
To drink to this buffer below.
Chorus: Wrap me up, etc.

And then in the calm of the twilight,
When the soft winds are whispering low, so low,
And the darkening shadows are falling,
Sometimes think of this buffer below.
Chorus: Wrap me up, etc.

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Source: The Scottish Students' Song Book. Published by Bayley and Ferguson.

Words by G. J. Melville. (1821-78) Air by Charles Coote.

Roud: 829 (Search Roud index at VWML) Take Six

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