Rosin the Bow
I live for the good of my nation
And my sons are all growing low,
But I hope that my next generation
Will resemble Old Rosin the Bow.
I have traveled this wide world all over,
And now to another I'll go,
For I know that good quarters are waiting
To welcome Old Rosin the Bow.
The gay round of delights I have traveled,
Nor will I behind leave a woe,
For while my companions are jovial
They'll drink to Old Rosin the Bow.
This life now is drawn to a closing,
All will at last be so,
Then we'll take a full bumper at parting
To the name of Old Rosin the Bow.
When I am laid out on the counter,
And the people all anxious to know,
Just raise up the lid of the coffin
And look at Old Rosin the Bow.
And when through the streets my friends bear me,
And the ladies are filled with deep woe,
They'll come to the doors and the windows
And sigh for Old Rosin the Bow.
Then get some fine, jovial fellows,
And let them all staggering go;
Then dig a deep hole in the meadow
And in it toss Rosin the Bow.
Then get a couple of dornicks,
Place one at my head and my toe,
And do not forget to scratch on them,
"Here lies Old Rosin the Bow."
Then let those same jovial fellows
Surround my lone grave in a row,
While they drink from my favorite bottle
The health of Old Rosin the Bow.