Miss Nightingale's Man
Lyrics
On a steam transport out of Malta
En route for the cold Crimea
A drummer-boy of the 68th
Who’d known neither love nor fear
When we arrived in Varna Before I could bang my drum
I was ordered aboard a hospital ship
For I had been overcome
By a sickness that proved worse than the guns
To which many would now succumb
We reached Scutari Hospital
Such a frightful sight I declare
Four miles of beds full of filth, blood and shit
With rats and lice everywhere
But then I beheld a vision
That made my young heart sing
A raven-haired angel took my hand
And took me under her wing
A nightingale flew down from heaven
And took me under her wing
From drummer-boy to errand-boy
I followed in her wake
Twenty hours with a lamp in her hand
Not one did she forsake
For they were all her darlings
Each and every one
And I bless the day that I became
Miss Nightingale’s Man
I became Miss Nightingale’s Man
There were fusiliers and carabiniers
Dragoons and ‘Cherry Bums’
Highlanders, Guards, Green Howards and Buffs
And many other mother’s sons
From Alma and Sevastapol
Balaclava and Inkermann
From frostbite and horrific wounds
There suffered many a man
But cholera was the worst of all
King Cholera ruled over all
Now in that awful nightmare
The Nightingale took stock
And as one born to lead by example
Inspired us ‘round the clock
We fed them on fresh vegetables
Wrapped each in a clean linen sheet
And despite the enormous task she faced
She would not accept retreat
She rose to every challenge and stole
And stole victory from defeat
From drummer-boy to errand-boy
I watched the death-rate fall
As with a fierce devotion
The Nightingale gave all
For they were all her darlings
Each and every one
And I bless the day that I became
Miss Nightingale’s Man
I became Miss Nightingale’s Man
Blessed are the merciful
Whose strength is to endure
Who selflessly care for the meek
Through motives good and pure
Many have come to thank her
For keeping them alive
After the surgeon had pronounced
“This one will not survive”
Whilst for a better system
She never ceased to campaign or strive
She became my patron
And she became my friend
She paid for my education
When the conflict came to an end
And despite all the words said against her
By those who were not there
Let them rot with gout in their own self-doubt
From the comfort of a soft armchair
For I saw it all through my own eyes
As Miss Nightingale’s Man
I was Miss Nightingale’s Man
From drummer-boy to errand-boy
I followed in her wake
Twenty hours with a lamp in her hand
Not one did she forsake
For they were all her darlings
Each and every one
And until the day I die, I am
I am Miss Nightingale’s Man
I am Miss Nightingale’s Man
One thing I will always be
Miss Nightingale’s Man
Miss Nightingale’s Man
(Gary Miller)
© 2018 Whippet Records
Copyright Control MCPS/PRS
Notes
The true story of drummer-boy Robert Robinson who became Florence Nightingale's errand boy, and later protege, during the Crimean War. The song was written as part of Gary's 'From Coalfield to Battlefield' project, which developed directly through 'When the Bugle Calls', a DLI Collection touring exhibition by the DLI Research and Study Centre.
Also as part of these respective linked projects, Gary's creative partner, artist, designer and illustrator Helen Temperley has produced an illustration to accompany the song (image coming soon).
Other songs from the project 'From Coalfield to Battlefield' include : - 'Ballad of Lance-Sergeant William Stones', 'Euphonium and Cornet', 'The Durham Light Infantry', 'The Final Letter of Jimmy Durham'.
Currently Unreleased
Video Clips
Gary performing 'Miss Nightingale's Man' live at The Cockpit,
Pickering, North Yorkshire, England, on 15th August 2019.
Pickering, North Yorkshire, England, on 15th August 2019.