Arthur Mcbride And The Sergeant Lyrics

Arthur Mcbride And The Sergeant lyrics

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