"What are the bugles blowin'for?" said Files-on-Parade.
"To turn you out, to turn you out", the Colour-Sergeant said.
"What makes you look so white, so white?" said Files-on-Parade.
"I'm dreadin'what I've got to watch", the Colour-Sergeant said.
 For they're hangin'Danny Deever, you can hear the Dead March play,
 The regiment's in 'ollow square -- they're hangin'him to-day;
 They've taken of his buttons off an'cut his stripes away,
 An'they're hangin'Danny Deever in the mornin'.

"What makes the rear-rank breathe so 'ard?" said Files-on-Parade.
"It's bitter cold, it's bitter cold", the Colour-Sergeant said.
"What makes that front-rank man fall down?" said Files-on-Parade.
"A touch o'sun, a touch o'sun", the Colour-Sergeant said.
 They are hangin'Danny Deever, they are marchin'of 'im round,
 They 'ave 'alted Danny Deever by 'is coffin on the ground;
 An''e'll swing in 'arf a minute for a sneakin'shootin'hound --
 O they're hangin'Danny Deever in the mornin'!

"'Is cot was right-'and cot to mine", said Files-on-Parade.
"'E's sleepin'out an'far to-night", the Colour-Sergeant said.
"I've drunk 'is beer a score o'times", said Files-on-Parade.
"'E's drinkin'bitter beer alone", the Colour-Sergeant said.
 They are hangin'Danny Deever, you must mark 'im to 'is place,
 For 'e shot a comrade sleepin'-- you must look 'im in the face;
 Nine 'undred of 'is county an'the regiment's disgrace,
 While they're hangin'Danny Deever in the mornin'.

"What's that so black agin'the sun?" said Files-on-Parade.
"It's Danny fightin''ard for life", the Colour-Sergeant said.
"What's that that whimpers over'ead?" said Files-on-Parade.
"It's Danny's soul that's passin'now", the Colour-Sergeant said.
 For they're done with Danny Deever, you can 'ear the quickstep play,
 The regiment's in column, an'they're marchin'us away;
 Ho! the young recruits are shakin', an'they'll want their beer to-day,
 After hangin'Danny Deever in the mornin'.