These are our masters, the slim
Grim muzzles that irk in the pit;
That chafe for the rushing of wheels,
For the teams plunging madly to bit
As the gunners wing down to unkey,
For the trails sweeping half-circle-right,
For the six breech-blocks clashing as one
To a target viewed clear on the sight–
Gray masses the shells search and tear
Into fragments that bunch as they run–
For the hour of the red battle-harvest,
The dream of the slaves of the gun!
We have bartered our souls to the guns;
Every fibre of body and brain
Have we trained to them, chained to them. Serfs?
Aye! but proud of the weight of our chain,
Of our backs that are bowed to their workings,
To hide them and guard and disguise,
Of our ears that are deafened with service,
Of hands that are scarred, and of eyes
Grown hawklike with marking their prey,
Of wings that are slashed as with swords
When we hover, the turn of a blade
From the death that is sweet to our lords.

Some talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules
Of Hector and Lysander, and such great names as these.
But of all the world’s great heroes, there’s none that can compare.
With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, to the British Grenadiers.
Those heroes of antiquity ne’er saw a cannon ball,
Or knew the force of powder to slay their foes withal.
But our brave boys do know it, and banish all their fears,
With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, for the British Grenadiers.
Whene’er we are commanded to storm the palisades,
Our leaders march with fusees, and we with hand grenades.
We throw them from the glacis, about the enemies’ ears.[N 1] Sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, the British Grenadiers.
And when the siege is over, we to the town repair.
The townsmen cry, “Hurrah, boys, here comes a Grenadier!
Here come the Grenadiers, my boys, who know no doubts or fears!
Then sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, the British Grenadiers.
Then let us fill a bumper, and drink a health of those
Who carry caps and pouches, and wear the loupèd clothes.
May they and their commanders live happy all their years.
With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, for the British Grenadiers.”

May our shots be true & timely
And our observation keen;
May our bark roll out like thunder
In the name of home & Queen;
The ranks of tanks & bayonets
Take heed of the power of the guns;
For all the worlds a battle
We are the chosen ones.

Quo Fas et Gloria Ducunt
Ubique

Now Old King Cole was a merry old soul and a merry old soul was he
He called for his pipe in the middle of the night and he called for
his Gunners three.

Beer Beer Beer said the Gunners,
Merry merry men are we;
There’s none so fair as can compare with the Royal Artillery.

Now Old King Cole was a merry old soul and a merry old soul was he
He called for is pipe in the middle of the night and he called for
his Bombardiers three.

Bubble Line Level Line Bubble said the Bombardier
Beer Beer Beer said the Gunners,
Merry merry men are we;
There’s none so fair as can compare with the Royal Artillery

Now Old King Cole was a merry old soul and a merry old soul was he
He called for is pipe in the middle of the night and he called for
his Sergeants three

Move to the right in Threes said the Sergeant
Bubble Line Level Line Bubble said the Bombardier
Beer Beer Beer said the Gunners,
Merry merry men are we;
There’s none so fair as can compare with the Royal Artillery

Now Old King Cole was a merry old soul and a merry old soul was he
He called for is pipe in the middle of the night and he called for
his Sar-Majors three

Charge that man said the Sergeant Major
Move to the right in Threes said the Sergeant
Bubble Line Level Line Bubble said the Bombardier
Beer Beer Beer said the Gunners,
Merry merry men are we;
There’s none so fair as can compare with the Royal Artillery

Now Old King Cole was a merry old soul and a merry old soul was he
He called for is pipe in the middle of the night and he called for
his Subalterns three

I do all the work said the Subaltern
Charge that man said the Sergeant Major
Move to the right in Threes said the Sergeant
Bubble Line Level Line Bubble said the Bombardier
Beer Beer Beer said the Gunners,
Merry merry men are we;
There’s none so fair as can compare with the Royal Artillery

Now Old King Cole was a merry old soul and a merry old soul was he
He called for is pipe in the middle of the night and he called for
his Captains three.

When do I get my leave said the Captain
I do all the work said the Subaltern
Charge that man said the Sergeant Major
Move to the right in Threes said the Sergeant
Bubble Line Level Line Bubble said the Bombardier
Beer Beer Beer said the Gunners,
Merry merry men are we;
There’s none so fair as can compare with the Royal Artillery

Now Old King Cole was a merry old soul and a merry old soul was he
He called for is pipe in the middle of the night and he called for
his Majors three.

Where have you put my Guns said the Major?
When do I get my leave said the Captain
I do all the work said the Subaltern
Charge that man said the Sergeant Major
Move to the right in Threes said the Sergeant
Bubble Line Level Line Bubble said the Bombardier
Beer Beer Beer said the Gunners,
Merry merry men are we;
There’s none so fair as can compare with the Royal Artillery

Now Old King Cole was a merry old soul and a merry old soul was he
He called for is pipe in the middle of the night and he called for
his Colonels three.

Blah, Blah, Blah said the Colonel
Where have you put my Guns said the Major?
When do I get my leave said the Captain
I do all the work said the Subaltern
Charge that man said the Sergeant Major
Move to the right in Threes said the Sergeant
Bubble Line Level Line Bubble said the Bombardier
Beer Beer Beer said the Gunners,
Merry merry men are we;
There’s none so fair as can compare with the Royal Artillery

Now Old King Cole was a merry old soul and a merry old soul was he
He called for is pipe in the middle of the night and he called for
his Padres three.

God save our gracious Queen said the Padre
Blah, Blah, Blah said the Colonel
Where have you put my Guns said the Major?
When do I get my leave said the Captain
I do all the work said the Subaltern
Charge that man said the Sergeant Major
Move to the right in Threes said the Sergeant
Bubble Line Level Line Bubble said the Bombardier
Beer Beer Beer said the Gunners,
Merry merry men are we;
There’s none so fair as can compare with the Royal Artillery.