From Handy Andy by Samuel Lover (London: Frederick Lover, 1842), page 351:

THE BOWLD SOJER BOY
Samuel Lover

1. Oh there's not a trade that's going,
Worth showing,
Or knowing,
Like that from glory growing,
    For a bowld sojer boy;
Where right or left we go,
Sure you know,
Friend or foe
Will have the hand or toe,
    From a bowld sojer boy!
There's not a town we march thro',
But the ladies, looking arch thro'
The window-panes, will search thro'
    The ranks to find their joy;
While up the street,
Each girl you meet,
With look so sly,
Will cry,
'My eye!
Oh, isn't he a darling, the bowld sojer boy!'

2. But when we get the route,
How they pout
And they shout,
While to the right about
    Goes the bowld sojer boy.
Oh, 'tis then that ladies fair
In despair
Tear their hair,
But 'the divil-a-one I care,'
    Says the bowld sojer boy!
For the world is all before us,
Where the landladies adore us,
And ne'er refuse to score us,
    But chalk us up with joy:
We taste her tap,
We tear her cap—
'Oh, that's the chap
For me!'
Says she;
'Oh, isn't he a darling, the bowld sojer boy?'

3. Then come along with me,
Gramachree,
And you'll see,
How happy you will be
    With your bowld sojer boy:
Faith! if you're up to fun,
With me run;
'Twill be done
In the snapping of a gun,'
    Says the bowld sojer boy;
'And 'tis then that, without scandal,
Myself will proudly dandle
The little farthing candle
    Of our mutual flame, my joy!
May his light shine,
As bright as mine,
Till in the line
He'll blaze,
And raise
The glory of his corps, like a bowld sojer boy!'