| Capo - 2nd fret |
| G | G | |
| Oh me | and my cousin one A | rthur McBride |
| C | G | Am7 | C | |
| As we | went a-wal | king down by | the seasi | de |
| G | G | |
| A-ma | rking what followed and what | might betide |
| D | |
| For it being on Christmas mo | rning |
| G | G | |
| And f | or recreation we we | nt on a tramp |
| C | G | Am7 | C | |
| And we met | Sergeant Har | per and Cor | poral R | amp |
| G | |
| And the li | ttle wee drummer intending to camp |
| D | G | |
| For the day being pleasant and cha | rming |
| "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 |