Arthur Mcbride

Capo - 2nd fret 
 
Oh me[G] and my cousin one A[G]rthur McBride 
As we[C] went a-wal[G]king down by[Am7] the seasi[C]de 
A-ma[G]rking what followed and what[G] might betide 
For it being on Christmas mo[D]rning 
And f[G]or recreation we we[G]nt on a tramp 
And we met[C] Sergeant Har[G]per and Cor[Am7]poral R[C]amp 
And the li[G]ttle wee drummer intending to camp 
For the day being pleasant and cha[D]rming[G] 
 
"Good morning, good morning" the Sergeant he cried 
"And the same to you gentlemen" we did reply 
Intending no harm as we 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 fists 
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 
He always is blessed with a charming young wife 
And he pays all his debts without sorrow and strife 
And he 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 look 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 scruple for to send us to France 
Where we would get shot without warning 
 
"Oh no," says the Sergeant, "I‘ll hear no such chat 
And I never 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 odds 
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 sides 
We flung them as far as we could in the tide 
"Now take them out, devils," cried Arthur McBride 
"And temper their edge in the morning" 
And the little wee drummer we flattened his pouch 
And we made a foot-bowl of his rowdy-dowd-dowd 
Threw it in the tide for to rock and to roll 
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 
But 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