Arthur McBride

Oh, me and my cousin, one Arthur McBride
 As we went a-walkin' down by the seaside
 Now mark what followed and what did betide
 For it bein' on Christmas mornin'
 Now, for recreation, we went on a tramp
 And we met sergeant Napper and corporal Vamp
 And a little wee drummer intending to camp
 For the day bein' pleasant and charmin'
 "Good morning, good morning, " the sergeant he cried
 "And the same to you, gentlemen, " we did reply
 Intending no harm but meant to pass by
 For it bein' on Christmas mornin'
 "But, " says he, "My fine fellows, if you will enlist
 Ten guineas in gold I'll stick to your fist
 And a crown in the bargain for to kick up the dust
 And drink the king's health in the morning
 "For a soldier, he leads a very fine life
 And he always is blessed with a charming young wife
 And he pays all his debts without sorrow or strife
 And he always lives pleasant and charmin'
 And a soldier, he always is decent and clean
 In the finest of clothing he's constantly seen
 While other poor fellows go dirty and mean
 And sup on thin gruel in the morning"
 "But, " says Arthur, "I wouldn't be proud of your clothes
 For you've only the lend of them, as I suppose
 But you dare not change them one night, for you know
 If you do, you'll be flogged in the morning
 And although that we're single and free
 We take great delight in our own company
 We have no desire strange places to see
 Although that your offers are charming
 "And we have no desire to take your advance
 All hazards and dangers we barter on chance
 For you'd have no scruples for to send us to France
 Where we would get shot without warning"
 "Oh no, " says the sergeant, "I'll have no such chat
 And neither will I take it from snappy young brats
 For if you insult me with one other word
 I'll cut off your heads in the morning"
 And Arthur and I, we soon drew our hogs
 We scarce gave them time to draw their own blades
 When a trusty shillelagh came over their head
 And bid them take that as fair warning
 And their old rusty rapiers that hung by their sides
 We flung them as far as we could in the tide
 "Now take them up, devils!" cried Arthur McBride
 "And temper their edge in the mornin'!"
 And the little wee drummer, we flattened his bow
 And we made a football of his rowdy-dow-dow
 Threw it in the tide for to rock and to roll
 And bade it a tedious returning
 And we havin' no money, paid them off in cracks
 We paid no respect to their two bloody backs
 And we lathered them there like a pair of wet sacks
 And left them for dead in the morning
 And so, to conclude and to finish disputes
 We obligingly asked if they wanted recruits
 For we were the lads who would give them hard clouts
 And bid them look sharp in the mornin'
 Oh, me and my cousin, one Arthur McBride
 As we went a-walkin' down by the seaside
 Now mark what followed and what did betide
 For it bein' on Christmas mornin'