When I-m killed, don-t think of me
Buried there in Cambrin Wood,
Nor as in Zion think of me
With the Intolerable Good.
And there-s one thing that I know well,
I-m damned if I-ll be damned to Hell!

So when I-m killed, don-t wait for me,
Walking the dim corridor;
In Heaven or Hell, don-t wait for me,
Or you must wait for evermore.
You-ll find me buried, living-dead
In these verses that you-ve read.

So when I-m killed, don-t mourn for me,
Shot, poor lad, so bold and young,
Killed and gone - don-t mourn for me.
On your lips my life is hung:
O friends and lovers, you can save
Your playfellow from the grave.