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Текст песни BOB DYLAN - Arthur McBride

BOB DYLAN - Arthur McBride слова песни



Текст песни BOB DYLAN - Arthur McBride




Oh, me and my cousin, one Arthur McBrideAs we went a-walkin' down by the seasideMark know what followed and what did betideFor it bein' on Christmas mornin'Now, for recreation, we went on a trampAnd we met Sergeant Napper and Corporal VampAnd a little wee drummer intending to camp( )For the day bein' pleasant and charming."Good morning, good morning," the sergeant he cried"And the same to you gentleman," we did replyIntending no harm but means to pass byFor it bein' on Christmas morning"But," says he, "My fine fellows, if you will enlistTen guineas in gold I'll stick in your fistAnd a crown in the bargain for to kick up the dustAnd drink the king's health in the morning."For a soldier, he leads a very fine lifeAnd he always is blessed with a charming young wifeAnd he pays all his debts without sorrow or strikeAnd he always lives pleasant and charmin'And a soldier he always is decent and cleanIn the finest of clothing he's constantly seenWhile other poor fellows go dirty and meanAnd sup on thin gruel in the morning"."But," says Arthur, "I wouldn't be proud of your clothesFor you've only the lend of them, as I supposeBut you're dare not change them one night, for you knowIf you do, you'll be flogged in the morningAnd although that we're single and freeWe take great delight in our own companyWe have no desire strange places to seeAlthoug that your offers are charming."And we have no desire to take your advanceAll hazards and dangers we barter on chanceFor you'd have no scruples for to send us to FranceWhere we could get shot without warning""Oh no," says the Sergeant, "I'll have no such chatAnd neither will I take it from snappy young bratsFor if you insult me with one other wordI'll cut off your heads in the morning".And Arthur and I, we soon drew our hogsAnd we scarce gave them time to draw their own bladesWhen a trusty shillelagh came over their headAnd bid them take that as fair warningAnd their old rusty rapiers that hung by their sidesWe 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 flattered his bowAnd we made a football of his rowdy-dow-dowThrew it in the tide for to rock and to rollAnd bade it a tedious returningAnd we havin' no money, paid them off in cracksWe paid no respect to their two bloody backsAnd we lathered them there like a pair of wet sacksAnd left them for dead in the morning.And so, to conclude and to finish disputesWe obligingly asked if they wanted recruitsFor we were the lads who would give them hard cloutsAnd bid them look sharp in the morning.Oh, me and my cousin, one Artur McBrideAs we went a-walkin' down by the seasideMark now what followed and what did betideFor it bein' on Christmas morning.




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