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A son of a Gambolier

Language: English

Come join my humble ditty,
From Tippery town I steer,
Like ev'ry honest fellow,
I take my lager beer,
Like ev'ry honest fellow,
I take my whiskey clear.
I'm a rambling rake of poverty,
And a son of a Gambolier.

I wish I had a barrel of rum,
And sugar three hundred pound,
The college bell to mix it in,
The clapper to stir it round;
I'd drink the health of dear old Yale,
And friends both far and near.
I'm a rambling rake of poverty,
And a son of a Gambolier.

Submitted by Emily Ezust [Administrator]


Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

Text added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.

Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:01:35
Line count: 16
Word count: 92

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