Arthur Mcbride and the Sergeant

Oh, me and my cousin, one Arthur McBride
 As we went a-walking down by the seaside
 Now, mark what followed and what did betide
 For it being on Christmas morning
 Out 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 being pleasant and charming
 
 Good morning, Good morning, the sergeant did cry
 And the same to you gentlemen, we did reply
 Intending no harm but meant to pass by
 For it being on Christmas morning
 But says he, My fine fellows if you will enlist
 It's ten guineas in gold I will slip in 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 always lives pleasant and charming
 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
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 But, says Arthur, I wouldn't be proud of your clothes
 For you've only the lend of them as I suppose
 And you dare not change them one night, for you know
 If you do you'll be flogged in the morning
 And although that we are single and free
 We take great delight in our own company
 And we have no desire strange faces 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 would have no scruples for to send us to France
 Where we would get shot without warning
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 Oh now, says the sergeant "I'll have no such chat
 And I neither will take it from spalpeen or brat
 For if you insult me with one other word
 I'll cut off your heads in the morning
 And then Arthur and I we soon drew our hods
 And we scarce gave them time for to draw their own blades
 When a trusty shillelagh came over their heads
 And bade them take that as fair warning
 And their old rusty rapiers that hung by their side
 We flung them as far as we could in the tide
 Now take them out, Divils, cried Arthur McBride
 And temper their edge in the morning
 And the little wee drummer we flattened his pow
 And we made a football of his rowdeydowdow
 Threw it in the tide for to rock and to row
 And bade it a tedious returning
 And we having no money, paid them off in cracks
 And we paid no respect to their two bloody backs
 For 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 morning
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 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 being on Christmas morning