Arthur McBride
This is an irish pub standard - just about everyone has recorded it at one time or another.
There are several versions of it, with varying reactions and retorts.
 
I had a first cousin called Arthur McBride and we went a-walking down by the seaside
Seeking good fortune and what might betide for it being on Christmas morning

For recreation we went on a tramp where we met Sergeant Harper and Corporal Crump
And a little wee drummer intending to camp for the day being pleasant and charming.
"Good morning, good morning," the sergeant did cry ”And the same to you gentlemen”, we did reply
Intending no harm, we made to pass by For it being on Christmas mornin'.

Says he, “My fine fellows, if you will enlist its ten guineas I quickly will shove in your fist
And a crown in the bargain to kick off the dust and to drink the king's health in the morning
For a soldier he leads a very fine life and he always is blessed with a pretty young wife
And he pays all his debts without worry or strife and always is pleasant and charming

And a soldier, he always is decent and clean, in the finest of clothes he is constantly seen
While other poor fellows are 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 remove them at 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 your offers are charming,
And we have no desire to take your advance, of hazards and dangers we’ll barter our chance
For you have no scruples and will send us to France where we’ll surely be shot without warning

Oh now, says the sergeant, if I hear one more word I instantly then will draw out my sword
And run through your bodies as strength can afford So now you gay devils take warning!
But Arthur and me we took in the odds and we gave them no chance for to lunge out their swords
Our trusty shillaleahs come over their heads and bade them take that as fair warning

As for the wee drummer, we rifled his pouch.  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 as for the rapiers that hung at their sides, we flung them as far as would could in the tide
To the devil I bid you, cried Arthur McBride and temper their steel in the morning.

I had a first cousin called Arthur McBride and we went a-walking down by the seaside
Seeking good fortune and what might betide For it being on Christmas morning
 

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