Oh, me and my cousin, one Arthur McBride
As we went out walkin' down by the seaside
Now mark what followed and what did betide
For it bein' on Christmas mornin'
As for recreation, we went on a tramp
And we met Sergeant Napper and Corporal Vamp
And a little wee drummer to beat our camp
With a rowdy-dow-dow in the morning.
"Good morning, good morning," the sergeant he cried
"And the same to you gentleman," we did reply
Intending no harm but to meant to pass by
For it bein' on Christmas morning
"Oh now says the Sergeant, if you will enlist
Ten guineas in gold I'll stick 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 strike
And 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're 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
And we have no desire strange places to see
Althoug 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't have no scruples for to send us to France
Where we would get shot in the morning"
"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
And we scarce gave them time to draw their own blades
When a trusty shillelagh came over their head
And bid them be smart in the morning.
And their old rusty rapiers that hung by their sides
We flung them as far as we could in the tide
"Now take them out, devils!" said Arthur McBride
"And temper their edge in the morning!".
And the little wee drummer, we flattered 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 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 Artur McBride
As we went out walkin' down by the seaside
Mark now what followed and what did betide
For it bein' on Christmas morning.