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."

"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"

"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.

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