The Regimental Marches

Most British regiments have official marches, music that is played during parades and celebrations.

These have varied origins. Some were chosen by commanding officers simply because they liked the melody.

Others were folk tunes from the regions where regiments recruited.


The Farmers Boy

The Regimental Quick March


The Farmers Boy
The sun had set beyond yon hill,
Across the dreary moor,
When weary and lame, a boy there came,
Up to the farmer's door,
"Can you tell me whe'ere I be,
And one that will me employ,"

To plough and sow, to reap and mow,
And be a farmer's boy,
And be a farmer's boy?

The farmer's wife cried "Try the lad,
Let him no longer seek".
"Yes Father do" the Daughter cried,
While the tears rolled down her cheek:
"For those who would work, 'tis hard to want
And wander for employ".

Don't let him go, but let him stay,
And be a farmer's boy,
And be a farmer's boy?

The Farmer's Boy grew up a man,
And the good old couple died,
They left the lad the farm they had,
And the daughter for his bride;
Now the lad that was, the farm now has,
Oft he thinks and smiles with joy.

Oh, happy day he came that way,
To be a Farmer's Boy,
To be a Farmer's Boy.


Auld Robin Grey 

The Regimental Slow March



Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and sought me for his bride;
But, saving a crown, he had naethlng else beside;
To make the crown a pound, my Jamie gaed to sea.
And the crown And the pound they were baith for me.
he hudna been awa' a week but only twa,
When my raither she fell sick, and the cow was stone awa;
My father brak' his arm, my Jamie at the sea,
And auld Robin Gray came a-courting me.

My father couldna work, my mither couldna spin;
I toiled day and night, but their bread I couldna win;
Auld Rob maintained them baith, and, wi' tears in his e'e
Said, "Jennie, for their sakes will you marry me "
My heart it said nae, and I looked for Jamie back;
But hard blew the winds, And his shin was a wrack;
His ship it was a wrack! why didna Jennie-dee?
And wherefore was I spared to cry, "Wae is me?"

My father argued sair; my mither didna speak.
But she look'd in my face till my heart was like to break;
They gied him my hand, but my heart was in the sea;
And so auld Robin Gray he was gudeman to me.
I hadna been his wife a week but only four.
When, mournfu' as I sat on the stane at the door,
I saw my Jamie's ghaist-I couldna think it he,
Till he said, "I'm come hame, my love, to marry thee! "

O, sair, sair did we greet, and mickle did we say!
Ae kiss we took-nea mair-I bade him gang awa'.
I wish that I were dead; but I'm nae like to dee;
And why do I live to say, "Wae is mer"
I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin;
I derena think o' Jamie, for that wad be a sin;
But I will do my best a gudewife aye to be,
For auld Robin Gray he is kind to me.


Rule Brittania

Regimental March off


Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves!
Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.

When Britain first, at heaven's command,
Arose from out the azure main,
This was the charter of the land,
And Guardian Angels sang this strain:


The nations not so blest as thee
Must, in their turn, to tyrants fall,
While thou shalt flourish great and free:
The dread and envy of them all.


Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful from each foreign stroke,
As the loud blast that tears the skies
Serves but to root thy native oak.


Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame;
All their attempts to bend thee down
Will but arouse thy generous flame,
But work their woe and thy renown.


To thee belongs the rural reign;
Thy cities shall with commerce shine;
All thine shall be the subject main,
And every shore it circles, thine.


The Muses, still with freedom found,
Shall to thy happy coasts repair.
Blest isle! with matchless beauty crowned,
And manly hearts to guard the fair.

Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves!
Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.


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