Arthur McBride
anonyme
La versione contenuta nelle "Songs of Northeast" di Gavin Greig,... | |
ARTHUR McBRIDE AND THE SEARGEANT I had a first cousin called Arthur McBride he and I took a stroll down by the seaside a seeking good fortune and what might the tide it was just as the day was a dawning And after we rested we went on a tramp we met Seargeant Napper and Corporal Cramp and a little wee drummer who beat up our camp with his rowdy dou dou in the morning He said my young fellows if you will enlist a guinea you quickly shall have in your fist and besides a crown for to kick up the dust and drink the King's health in the morning but had we been such fools as to take the advance the wee bit of money we'd have to run chance do you think it no scuples for to send us to France where we would be killed in the morning He says my young fellows if I hear but one word instantly now will out with my sword and into your bodies as strength might afford so now me gay devils take warning but Arthur and I we soon took the odds and we gave them no chance for to draw out their swords our wacking shillelaghs came over their heads and paid them right smart in the morning As for the wee drummer we rifled his pouch and we made a football of his rowdy dou dou and into the ocean for to rock and to roll and barring the day its returning as for the ould rapier that hung by his side we flung as far as we could in the tide To the divil I pitch you says Arthur McBride to temper your edge in the morning. | ARTHUR McBRIDE I once had a comrade named Arthur McBride as we were a-walking along the seaside As we were a-walking to bathe in the tide It was on a fine summer's morning As we were awalking along the sea sand We met Sergeant Napier and Corporal O'Hand And a little wee drummer called Patrick McDan They were going to the fair in the morning O Arthur, my lad, if you would but list Five guineas in gold I would clap in your fist Besides five shilling to kick up the dust And drink the king's health in the morning Na faith, says Arthur, I ken it mysel' I winna gae wi you to rin at your tail I winna gae wi you to rin at your tail And be at your command in the morning O, if you go with us, I'm sure you'll go clean We're not like poor fellows goes dirty and mean We're not like poor fellows goes dirty and mean Gets nothing but gruel in the morning Ye needna be chattin' aboot your fine pay As you go a-marchin' and trampin' away For all that ye hae is a shilling a day To get you some chat in the morning Ye needna be chattin' aboot your fine clothes Ye've only the len o them as I suppose Ye daurna sell them in spite o your nose Or you will get flogged in the morning I'm blessed said the sergeant, if I'll take more of that From you or from any young cow-feeding brat And if you tip me any more of your chat I will run you thru in the morning But before they time to draw out their blades Our whacking shillelaghs came over their heads We soon let them see that we were their blades That could temper their pows in the morning As for the wee drummer we tempered his pow And made a football o his row-didi-dow And kicket it in to the ocean to row And take a bit bathe in the morning And as for the weapons that hung by their sides We took them and pitched them far out in the tide May the deil gae wi them, said Arthur McBride If ever we see them returning. |