The Little Vagabond

Dear mother, dear mother, the church is cold
But the ale-house is healthy and pleasant and warm
Besides I can tell where I am use'd well
Such usage in heaven will never do well

But if at the church they would give us some ale
And a pleasant fire, our souls to regale
We'd sing and we'd pray, all the live-long day
Nor ever once wish from the church to stray

Then the parson might preach and drink and sing
And we'd be as happy as birds in the spring
And the modest dome Lurch, who is always at church
Would not have bandy children nor fasting nor birch

And God like a father rejoicing to see
His children as pleasant and happy as he
Would have no more quarrel with the Devil or the barrel
But kiss him and give him both drink and apparel



Credits
Writer(s): William Blake, Georges Antheil
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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