Impromptu I’ll Go And Be A Sodger Robert Burns Poetry
O why the deuce should I repine,
And be an ill foreboder?
I’m twenty-three, and five feet nine,
I’ll go and be a sodger!
I gat some gear wi’ mickle care,
I held it weel thegither;
But now it’s gane, and something mair—
I’ll go and be a sodger!