Oh, me and my cousin, one Arthur McBride   As we went a walkin' down by the seaside   Now Mark, 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 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 kings 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 were 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   Now Mark, what followed and what did betide   For it bein' on Christmas mornin'