Some talk of ALEXANDER, And some of HERCULES, And many a great commander As glorious as these; But if you want a hero Of genuine pluck and pith, It’s perfectly clear there’s none comes near To full British PRIVATE SMITH. Its easy to fight, with glory At hand to gild your name, And stick it up in story, Among the sons of fame. But SMITH, full British private, Is expected to be brave, With the cold “cold shade” above his head, At his feet a nameless grave. For Generals there’s the peerage, With grant of public tin; There’s regiments for Colonels, For Captains steps to win. But for PRIVATE SMITH the utmost, (If he avoided beer) Was a Chelsea berth, and a pension worth Some fifteen pounds a-year. Till now the stars and garters, Were for birth’s or fortune’s son, And as oft in snug home-quarters, As in fields of fight were won. But at length a star arises, Which as glorious will shine On SMITH’S red serge vest as upon the breast Of SMYTH’S scarlet superfine. Though carpet-knights may grumble, Routine turn up its nose, Though CARDIGANS and LUCANS, And AIREYS may oppose, Yet shall the star of valour Defy their scoffs and jeers―― As its bronze rays shine on plain SMITH of the Line, And plain SMITH of the Grenadiers. Too long mere food for powder We’ve deem’d our rank and file, Now higher hopes and prouder. Upon the soldier smile. And if no Marshal’s bâton PRIVATE SMITH in his knapsack bears, At least in the War, the chance of the star With his General he shares. _Punch._ February 23, 1856. There was another parody of the same song in _Punch_, February 27, 1858, complaining of the shameful manner in which our soldiers were then clothed, lodged, and fed. As most of the evils therein alluded to have been remedied, the parody is now obsolete. A parody entitled “Aitcheson’s Carabineers,” appears on page 112 of the 1869 edition of Logan’s “Pedlar’s Pack of Ballads and Songs.” ―――― THROUGH FIRE AND WATER; OR, THE LONDON VOLUNTEERS. Some talk of Alexander, And some of Hercules,―― The Chief whose martial dander, Asked worlds to stand at ease―― The Sayers of the prize ring, In high Olympian spheres,―― But both, I’ll be bound, now-a-days would be found Enrolled in the Volunteers. Our soldiers they are heroes, We know, in facing fire; Our tars reduce to zeros All fears the seas inspire. But for going through fire _and_ water, ――To say nothing of small boys’ jeers―― There’s no service, I swear, that can compare With the London Volunteers.