Odds bobs, hammer and tongs, long as I've been to sea,
I've fought 'gainst every odds--and I've gained the victory.
Our Captain sent for all of us; my merry men said he,
I haven't the gift of the gab, my lads, but yet I thankful be:
You've done your duty handsomely, each man stood to his gun;
If you hadn't, you villains, as sure as day, I'd have flogged each
mother's son.
Odds bobs, hammer and tongs, as long as I'm at sea,
I'll fight 'gainst every odds--and I'll gain the victory.
OLD KING COLE.
BY ALFRED H. MILES.
Old King Cole was a merry old soul,
A merry old soul was he!
He would call for his pipe, he would call for his glass,
He would call for his fiddlers three;
With loving care and reason rare,
He ruled his subjects true--
Who used to sing, "Long live the King!"
And He--"the people too!"
Old King Cole was a musical soul,
A musical soul was he!
He used to boast what pleased him most
Was nothing but fiddle-de-dee!
But his pipe and his glass he loved--alas!
As much as his fiddlers three,
And by time he was done with the other and the one,
He was pretty well done, was he!
Old King Cole was a kingly soul,
A kingly soul was he!
He governed well, the records tell,
The brave, the fair, the free;
He used to say, by night and day,
"I rule by right divine!
My subjects free belong to me,
And all that's theirs is mine!"
Old King Cole was a worthy soul,
A worthy soul was he!
From motives pure he tried to cure
All greed and vanity;
So if he found--the country round
A slave to gold inclined,
He would take it away, and bid him pray
For a more contented mind.
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