Englishman, Irishman and Scotchman, The

From the Bodleian Ballad Collection dated 1863-1885)

The Englishman, Irishman, & Scotchman, or Dearly you must pay for your mutton

An Englishman, an Irishman, 
And a Scotchman too, one day
Were a going along together
And one of them did say -
We are all very hungry, 
And I see on yonder hill
A lot of little baa-lambs, 
Let's take on and have a fill

The notion was agreed on, 
To the fields they went together,
There being a lot to choose from
They chose a fine wether;
One held the head, the other its legs, 
The other drew its knife, 
To keep themselves from starving, 
They took away his life.

They soon made up a fire,
And the sheep began to cook,
They were only after eating it,
When the farmer the whole lot took;
Says he, for this you shall dearly pay, 
For cutting that sheep's wizzen, 
So like a shot he caught the lot
And whacked them off to prison.

Next day before the old judge,
The whole of them was took,
The jury found them 'Guilty'
And the judge looked in a book:
Said he, this a case for hanging,
The black cap on his head,
John Bull, Paddy and Sawney, 
You must be hung till you're dead.

But I'll be merciful to you, 
Since you have not long to live,
You all seem very sorry,
And this wish to you I'll give,
To choose your place for hanging, 
Since you are so far from home,
So anywhere you like to name, 
You are all welcome.

[TUNE- "BRAVE OLD OAK"]
Then the Englishman spoke,
I'll choose the oak, 
The pride of my native land,
On an oak tree you may hang me,
Since us three you are going to disband.
All right, says the judge, away you can trudge 
Away back to your cell
On the bough of an oak you shall dwell
Yes, you shall croak on the bough of an oak
But I am  sorry to see such a glutton;
You all had your fill, and the poor baa-lamb you did kill, 
So dearly you pay for your mutton.'

[TUNE - "BONNIE DUNDEE"]
Then up spoke bold Scotty, of Scotland he spoke -
On Scotland's highest mountain let my neck be broke!
Let me breathe my last moments in an air pure and free!
O give me one pinch of snuff and in peace I will die.
All right, says the judge, that favour I'll grant,
Take him away and let him not snuff want.
Let him breathe his last moments in air pure and free,
They for ten minutes, and skew'd up went Scotty.

[TUNE - "ERIN GO BRAGH"]
Mush agra, says poor Paddy, if I'm after dying,
On a gooseberry bush I would like to be swung;
On a gooseberry bush, says the judge, while on Paddy eyeing,
Sure, there isn't one high enough for you to be hung.
Hold hard, says Paddy, don't be in a flurry,
There isn't one high enough, sure, everyone knows,
But as for the hanging, sure, I'm in no hurry,
If it pleases your honour, I'll wait till one grows.'