I once knew a fellow called Arthur McBride
And his pleasure was walking down by the seaside,
A-walking, a-talking, a-viewing the tide
Though the weather was pleasant and charming.
So gay and so gallant we went on our tramp,
We met Sergeant Harper and Corporal Gramp
And the bonny little drummer who roused up the camp
With his row-dee-dow-dow in the morning.
"What ho, me good fellows," the sergeant did cry,
"The same to you, sergeant," we made to reply.
There was nothing more said and we made to pa** by
All on that bright summer's morning.
"What ho, me good fellows, if you would enlist,
Ten guineas in gold I would slap in your fist
And a crown in the bargain to kick up the dust
And to drink the King's health in the morning."
"Oh no, me good sergeant, we are not for sale,
Though we're fond of our country, your bribes won't avail.
Though we're fond of our country, we care not to sail,
For we are the boys of the morning."
"If you would insult me without any word,
I swear, by me king, I would draw me broadsword
And I'd run through your body as strength me affords
Ere you could breathe out the morning."
Oh we laid the little drummer as flat as a shoe,
We made a football of his row-dee-dow-doo.
The sergeant, the corporal, we knocked out the two
For we were the boys of the morning.
And as for the weapons that hung by their side,
We flung them as far as we could in the tide.
"And the devil go with you," says Arthur McBride,
"For spoiling our walk in the morning."