Arthur McBride歌词

作词 : Traditional
作曲 : Traditional
Arthur McBride - Bob Dylan

Oh me and my cousin one Arthur McBride
As we went a-walkin' down by the seaside

Mark now what followed and what did betide
For it bein' on Christmas mornin'

Now 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 bein' pleasant and charmin'

Good morning good morning
The Sergeant he cried
And the same to you
Gentlemen we did reply
Intending no harm but meant to pass by
For it bein' on Christmas mornin'

But says he My fine fellows
If you will enlist
Ten guineas in gold
I'll stick to 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 he 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 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
We have no desire strange places 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'd have no scruples for to send us to France
Where we would get shot without warning

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 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 up devils cried Arthur McBride
And temper their edge in the mornin'
And the little wee drummer we flattened 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 we havin' no money paid them off in cracks
We paid no respect to their two bloody backs
And 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 mornin'

Oh me and my cousin one Arthur McBride
As we went a-walkin' down by the seaside
Mark now what followed and what did betide
For it bein' on Christmas mornin'