Language   

Arthur McBride

Anonymous
Back to the song page with all the versions


Versione cantata da Bob Dylan
ARTHUR McBRIDE

I once had a brother called Arthur McBride
And he and I wandered adown the seaside;
Our pleasure and pastime a-watchin' the tide,
And the weather was pleasant & charmin'.
So gaily and gallant we went on a tramp,
We met Sergeant Napier & Corp'ral Demant,
'And the neat little drummer that roused all the camp
And beat row-de-dow-dow in the mornin'.

"Good morning, young fellows," the sergeant did cry
"The same to you, sergeant," we made a reply.
Was nothing more spoken, we made to pass by
It was all on a Christmas Day mornin'.
"Come, come, my fine fellows, I pray you enlist
Ten guineas in gold I will slap in your fist
And a crown in the bargain to kick up the dust
For to drink the king's health in the morning

"Oh no, Mister Sergeant, we are not for sale
We make no such bargain, your bribe won't avail.
We're fond of our country, & care not to sail
Tho' your offers look pleasant & charmin'."
"Ha, if you insult me without other words
I swear by the devil we'll draw out our swords
And thrust thro' your bodies as strength us affords
And leave you to die without warnin'."

We beat the bold drummer as flat as his shoe
We made a football of his row-de-dow-do;
And the sergeant and corporal we knocked down the two
O, we were the boys in that mornin'.
The two little weapons that hung at their side
As we trotted away, we threw into the tide,
"And the devil be with you," said Arthur McBride
"For delayin' our walk in the mornin."
ARTHUR MCBRIDE

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'


Back to the song page with all the versions

Main Page

Note for non-Italian users: Sorry, though the interface of this website is translated into English, most commentaries and biographies are in Italian and/or in other languages like French, German, Spanish, Russian etc.




hosted by inventati.org