We continue our exploration of the music of the Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars. Click the button with the musical note to hear a MIDI rendition of the tune. The English translations of the lyrics are my own, with apologies to all native speakers of those languages! Readers are heartily invited to submit favorite tunes from any of the involved nations.
This song celebrates our comrades of the Imperial and Royal Austrian Army. It caught my attention by its lively lilting tune and by its reference to that most famous of Austrian units, Infanterie-Regiment 4 "Deutschmeister." The chorus in verses 1 and 6 was probably inspired by the Austrian practice of brigading together infantry and cavalry elements.
Es zog ein Regiment vom Ungarland herauf,
Es zog ein Regiment vom Ungarland herauf,
Ein Regiment zu Fuß, ein Regiment zu Pferd,
Ein Batallion Deutschmeister.
Ein Regiment zu Fuß, ein Regiment zu Pferd,
Ein Batallion Deutschmeister.
Bei einer Frau Wirtin da kehrten sie ein, [repeat]
Frau Wirtin schenkt' ihn'n den kühlen Wein,
Durch ihr feins Töchterlein. [repeat]
Und als der helle, lichte tag anbrach,
Und als das Mägdlein vom Schlafe auferwacht,
Da fing es es an zu weinen.
"Ach, schwarzbraunes Mädel, warum weinest du so sehr?"
"Ein Unteroffizier von der ersten Kompanie
Hat mir mein Ehr' genommen!"
Der Hauptmann, der war ein gestrenger Mann.
Die Trommeln ließ er rühren, ein'n Galgen ließ er bau'en,
Den Fähnrich ließ er henken.
Es zog ein Regiment vom Ungarland heraus,
Ein Regiment zu Fuß, ein Regiment zu Pferd,
Ein batallion Deutschmeister.
A regiment marched up from Hungary,
A regiment of Foot, a regiment of Horse,
A battalion of "Deutschmeisters."
They swept into a landlady's inn.
The landlady gave them refreshing wine,
Served by her lovely young daughter.
And when the bright clear day did break,
The lass awoke from sleep and began to weep bitterly.
"Oh, dark-brown haired maiden, why do you weep so hard?"
"A Corporal of the First Company has taken my honor!"
The Captain was a stern, strict man.
The drums were set to beating, a gallows was erected,
The standard-bearer was hanged.
This song came to mind during a discussion with Hans Boersma of the Royal Netherlands Army. Neither of us could recall a traditional Dutch soldiers' song, but this old British sailors' chantey celebrates the famous charmers of old Amsterdam. In the chorus, "ruin" is pronounced "rue-eye-in."
In Amsterdam there lived a maid (mark well what I do say),
In Amsterdam there lived a maid,
And she was Mistress of her trade!
I'll go no more a-roving with you, fair maid!
Chorus:
A-roving, a-roving, since roving's been my ru-i-in,
I'll go no more a-ro-o-ving with you, fair maid!
Her eyes are like two stars so bright (mark... )
Her eyes are like two stars so bright,
Her face is fair, her step is light.
I'll go no more a ro-o-ving with you, fair maid!
Her cheeks are like the rosebuds red (mark... )
Her cheeks are like the rosebuds red,
She's wealth of hair upon her head.
I'll go no more a-ro-o-ving with you, fair maid!
I took that fair maid for a walk (mark... )
I took that fair maid for a walk,
And we had such a loving talk.
I'll go no more a-ro-o-ving with you, fair maid!
I put my arm around her waist (mark... )
I put my arm around her waist,
So slim and trim and tightly laced.
I'll go no more a-ro-o-ving with you, fair maid!
I took that maid upon my knee (mark... )
I took that maid upon my knee,
My wedded wife she'll surely be!
I'll go no more a ro-o-ving from you, fair maid!
A-roving, a-roving, since roving's been my ru-i-in,
I'll go no more a-ro-o-ving from you, fair maid!
This song first appeared in 1704 under the title Le Prisonnier d'Hollande, the lament of a young Frenchwoman whose husband or fiancé has become a prisoner in the War of the Spanish Succession (1701-1714). It quickly gained immense popularity among French soldiers, who could be heard singing it from the Battle of Denain (1712) to the Madagascar Expedition (1895) and into the First World War. The stanzas are sung from the viewpoint of the woman, while the chorus reflects the longing of the prisoner (and the campaigning soldier) to be with his blonde, a slang term for girlfriend or lover. The song is in the popular chanson à répéter format, in which a lead singer does a line which is immediately repeated by the mass of troops, who also join in on the chorus. Thus, only one man in the company actually needs to know the lyrics by heart, for all to be able to sing.
Chorus:
Auprès de ma blonde
Qu'il fait bon, fait bon, fait bon
Auprès de ma blonde,
Qu'il fait bon dormir.
Au jardin de mon père, les lilas sont fleuris,
Au jardin de mon père, les lilas sont fleuris,
Tous les oiseaux du monde y viennent faire leur nid.
(Chorus)
Tous les oiseaux du monde y viennent faire leur nid, [repeat]
La caille, la tourterelle, et la jolie perdrix.
(Chorus)
La caille, la tourterelle, et la jolie perdrix,
Et ma jolie colombe, qui chante jour et nuit.
(Chorus)
Et ma jolie colombe, qui chate jour et nuit,
Qui chante pour les filles qui n'ont pas de mari.
(Chorus)
Qui chante pour les filles qui n'ont pas de mari,
Pour moi ne chante guère, car j'en ai un joli.
(Chorus)
Pour moi ne chante guère, car j'en ai un joli.
"Dites-moi donc, la belle, où est votre mari?"
(Chorus)
"Dites-moi donc, la belle, où est votre mari?"
Il est dans la Hollande, les hollandais l'ont pris.
(Chorus)
Il est dans la Hollande, les hollandais l'ont pris.
"Que donneriez-vous, belle, pour avoir votre mari?"
(Chorus)
"Que donneriez-vous, belle, pour avoir votre mari?"
Je donnerai Versailles, Paris et Saint-Denis.
(Chorus)
Je donnerai Versailles, Paris et Saint-Denis,
Les tours de Notre-Dame, les cloches de mon pays.
Close to my girl, how good, how good, how good it is,
Close to my girl, how good it is to sleep.
In my father's garden, the lilacs are in bloom.
All the birds of the world come there to make their nest.
The quail, the turtle-dove, and the pretty partridge,
And my pretty dove that sings both day and night,
That sings for the girls that have no husband.
No need to sing for me, for I've a handsome one.
"Tell me then, beauty, where is your husband?"
He is in Holland, the Dutch have captured him.
"What would you give, beauty, to have your husband back?"
I'd give Versailles, Paris, and Saint-Denis,
The towers of Notre-Dame, all the bells of my land.
This song was written by Robert Burns (1759-1796), Scotland's greatest popular poet. The words may be seditiously Jacobite (the white cockade was worn by the followers of Bonnie Prince Charlie in 1745), but what Scot can resist them? Even a heavy-jowled Sassenach will step lively when this tune is played!
My love was born in Aberdeen,
The bonniest lad that e'er was seen;
But now he makes our hearts fu' sad,
He's ta'en the field wi' his white cockade.
Chorus:
O he's a rantin', rovin' blade,
He's a brisk and a bonny lad,
Betide what may, my heart is glad,
To see my lad wi' his white cockade!
Oh, leeze me on the philabeg,
The hairy hough and garten'd leg;
But aye the thing that binds my ee,
The white cockade aboun the bree!
(Chorus)
I'll sell my rock, I'll sell my reel,
My rippling-kame and spinning-wheel,
To buy my lad a tartan plaid,
A broadsword, dirk, and white cockade!
(Chorus)
I'll sell my rokelay and my tow,
My good grey mare and hawkit cow,
That every loyal Buchan lad
May tak' the field wi' the white cockade!
(Chorus)
O he's a rantin' rovin' blade,
He's a brisk and a bonny lad,
Betide what may, I will be wed,
And follow the boy wi' the white cockade!
Leeze me on: I am delighted by
Philabeg: kilt
Hough: back of the knee
Garten'd: gartered
Aye: always
Ee: eye
Aboun: above
Bree: brow
Rock: distaff
Rippling-kame: carding-comb
Rokelay: a short cloak
Tow: flax
Hawkit: white-spotted