That no other care I might have to bide.
Through the foe's fierce firing bid me ride,
Through fathomless Rhine, in his roaring flow,
Where ev'ry third man to the devil may go,
At no bar will you find me boggling there;
But, farther than this, 'tis my special prayer,
That I may not be bothered with aught like care.

SERGEANT.
If this be your wish, you needn't lack it,
'Tis granted to all with the soldier's jacket.

FIRST YAGER.
What a fuss and a bother, forsooth, was made
By that man-tormentor, Gustavus, the Swede,
Whose camp was a church, where prayers were said
At morning reveille and evening tattoo;
And, whenever it chanced that we frisky grew,
A sermon himself from the saddle he'd read.

SERGEANT.
Ay, that was a man with the fear of God.

FIRST YAGER.
Girls he detested; and what's rather odd,
If caught with a wench you in wedlock were tacked,--
I could stand it no longer, so off I packed.

SERGEANT.
Their discipline now has a trifle slacked.