A-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.
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 a day being pleasant and charming.
"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 being on Christmas morning.
"But," says he, "My fine fellows, if you will enlist,
A-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 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 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'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 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,
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 morning!"
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, having 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'd a-give them hard clouts and bid them look sharp in the morning.
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.