THE SON OF A GAMBOLIER



I'm a rambling rake of poverty

From Tippery town I came.

'Twas poverty compelled me first,

To go out in the rain;

In all sorts of weather,

Be it wet or be it dry,

I'm bound to get my livelihood

Or lay me down and die.



cho: Then combine your humble ditties

As from inn to tavern we steer,

Like every honest fellow

I drinks my lager beer,

Like every jolly fellow

I takes my whiskey clear,

For I'm a rambling rake of poverty

And the son of a gambolier.

I once was tall and handsome,

And was so very neat,

They thought I was too good to live,

Most good enough to eat;

But now I'm old, my coat is torn,

And poverty holds me fast,

And every girl turns up her nose,

As I go wandering past.



I'm a rambling rake of poverty,

From Tippery town I came,

My coat I bought from an old Jew shop,

Way down in Maiden Lane;

My hat I got from a sailor lad

Just eighteen years ago,

And my shoes I picked from an old dust heap

Which every one shunned but me.



from Pious Friends and Drunken Companions, Shay

Note: Best known in college version as Rambling Wreck from

Georgia Tech etc. RG

@rambling @poverty

filename[ SONGAMB

play.exe SONGAMB

RG

===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY