Arthur Mcbride by Bob Dylan guitar tab (text):

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Bob Dylan - Arthur McBride



Capo - 2nd fret



Oh me[G] and my cousin one A[G]rthur McBride

As we[C] went a-wal[G]king down by[Am7] the seasi[C]de

A-ma[G]rking what followed and what[G] might betide

For it being on Christmas mo[D]rning

And f[G]or recreation we we[G]nt on a tramp

And we met[C] Sergeant Har[G]per and Cor[Am7]poral R[C]amp

And the li[G]ttle wee drummer intending to camp

For the day being pleasant and cha[D]rming[G] 



"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





Enjoy!