text:  If he conquer if he fall-- _Fortune de la guerre_--that's all! "Let the pedant waste his oil With the soldier all is sport; Let your blockheads make a coil In the cloister or the court; Let them fatten in their stall We can fatten too--that's all! "What care we for fortune's frown All that comes is for the best; What's the noble's bed of down To the soldier's evening rest On the heath or in the hall All alike to him--that's all! "When the morn is on the sky Hark the gay _reveille_ rings! Glory lights the soldier's eye To the gory breach he springs Plants his colours on the wall Wins and wears the _croix_--that's all!" The dashing style in which this hereditary song of the French camp was given by "Colonel Alexandre Jules Caesar" of the "brave battalion of the Marais " his capitally awkward imitation of the soldier of the old _regime_ and his superb affectation of military nonchalance were so admirable that his song excited actual raptures of applause