Bob Dylan - Arthur McBride

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I had a first cousin called Arthur McBride
  .. Oh me & my cousin, one Arthur McBride
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He and I took a stroll down by the seaside
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Seeking good fortune and what might betide
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It was just as the day was a'dawnin'

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After restin' we both took a tramp
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We met Sergeant Harper and Corporal Cramp
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Besides the wee drummer who beat up the camp
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With his row-dee-dow-dow in the morning

Repeat chords for remaining verses

He says my young fellows if you will enlist
A guinea you quickly will have in your fist
Besides a crown 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 or strife
And always lives happy and charming


And a soldier he always is decent and clean
In the finest of garments he's constantly seen
While other poor fellows go dirty and mean
And sup on thin gruel in the morning


Says Arthur, I wouldn't be proud of your clothes
You've only the lend of them as I suppose
And you dare not change them one night or you know
If you do you'll be flogged in the morning
 

And although we are single and free
We take great delight in our own company
And we have no desire strange countries to see
Although your offer is charming
 

And we have no desire to take your advance
All hazards and danger we barter on chance
and you'd have no scruples to send us to France
Where we would be shot without warning
 

And now says the sergeant, if I hear but one word
I'll instantly now will out with my sword
And into your bodies as strength will afford
So now my gay devils take warning
 

But Arthur and I we took the odds
We gave them no chance to launch out their swords
Whacking shillelaghs came over their heads
And paid them right smart in the morning
 

As for the wee drummer, we rifled his pow
And made a football of his row-do-dow-dow
Into the ocean to rock and to roll
And bade it a tedious returnin'
 

As for the old rapier that hung by his side
We flung it as far as we could in the tide
To the Devil I pitch you, says Arthur McBride
To temper your steel in the morning