THE NEXT MAN TO DIE
We meet ‘neath the sounding rafters, and the walls around are bear,
As they echo to our laughter, who would think that the dead are there.
CHORUS
Stand to your glasses, steady, for it’s all we’ve leftto prize,
quaff a cupto the men dead already, and one for the next man to die
Who dreads to the dead returning, who shrinks fromthat sable shore,
Where the high and the haughty yearning, of the dead will be no more.
Time was when we frowned on others, we thought we were wiser then,
But now let us all be brothers, for we may ne’er meet again.
But a truce to this mournful story, for Death is a constant friend,
So here’s to a life of Glory, and a laurel to crown each mans end.
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I recorded this song fromthe singing of Dave Alexander. This song originated in the Indian Army in the 1870’s. During the Boer War it spread to the Australian Armies, and thus to the American Army. World War I saw this song extensively sung, and was appropriated by fledgling Air Forces, being one of the tunes for the song’The Dying Aviator’. During WWII paratroops took the chorus and used it for their version of the Red River Valley, and its use continued through the Vietnam War.
This song remains popular among combat soldiers due to the eternal combat themes of loss and comradeship, and the constant closeness of Death, which carries us from the pain of life in the field and combat to the rest and rewards of Fiddlers Green (also in this collection).