The Abandoned Baby

When forth in my ramble, intending to roam

To an alehouse I ambled most free

Far from the town, I did spend near a pound

Until I became fuddled most really.

I sat down to sleep for an hour on the cheap

And I had me a dream worth the telling

Till I awoke, in my rib felt a poke

And the landlord was doing the yelling

I walked straight outside, and attempting to hide

On a dustpile did settle to rest

And on top of the mound, there I saw a white hound

Who suckled a child at her breast

'Hello and good day' I attempted to say

But the dog she growled at the moon

(She said 'I'm) not talking to a poor boy such as you

With none but a song as your fortune'

I have seen a ghost fly on the wings of the night

And a dead man return from the war

(I have) heard of a queen who gave birth to thirteen

But I ne'er heard a dog talk before

I kept far away while this canine did say

'(This) baby is mine for the giving

(I'm her) guardian here and I'll wait till appears

A lord with a very large living'

'Fate's in my paws and this baby's not yours

Abandoned by father and mother

Hear him softly weep while he's trying to sleep

We will patiently wait for another'

So we did wait on that lowly estate

(Till a) carriage arrived from the distance

(Which) stopped in its tracks as if chopped by an axe

With none but His Divine Assistance

(And she) Barked to be heard, the dog true to her word

Till the Lord heard this savage and wild

And got her to stop, as they offered a chop

To exchange for the innocent child

And into that carriage they handed the babe

And may nobody call me a liar

But the arms of the one on whom fortune had shone

Was the sign of the Rose and The Briar

And so they made hayste with that baby away

Yes off went that coach like the flyer

And the arms of the one on whom fortune had shone

Was the Bonny Red Rose and The Briar

And the dog too gone home as her work now was done

The hound who loved foundlings and orphans

(May this) country of ours care as much for the poor

As that hound on the outskirts of London

Good luck to that child who was born nearly wild

And pardon my common effrontery

Perhaps you have grown to be quite as unknown

Or perhaps you'll be King Of This Countrie

And when you do rule, please remember the cruel

Way that nature gave you your beginning

And think of the hound on the desolate mound

And please forgive singers their sinning

And please forgive sinners their singing.