Early Monday Morning in 1806.
'Twas early Monday morning in eighteen hundred and five.
I thought myself quite lucky to find myself alive;
I harnessed up my horses, my business to pursue,
And went to hauling wood, my boys, just as I ought to do.
The stores being open, and liquor very free,
One glass was emptied and another filled for me;
only called tor one, boys, should not have taken more.
But didn't stop my drinking, boys, till I could drink no more.
I put my saddle on my back And went into the barn,
I harnessed up the horses, not thinking any harm;
Soon as I had them ready I drove them out quite still,
And scarcely drew rein till we came to Plipton Mill.
There I met an old acquaintance, his name I dare not call,
Who told me that night there was to be a ball;
Twas hard to persuade me, trot finally I did say,
I'd just step in a little while to hear the fiddler play.
There was a goodly number to have a jovial dance,
The girls they were much prettier than you could find In France:
The fiddler being willing, his arm stout and strong.
Played (he " Grounds of old Ireland," or "Go it while you're young.*
The morning stars had risen, and we had danced enough.
delayed but a little in gathering cash for Cuff;
Then home to our labors-though we whistle and we sing, '
We never shall be caught again, boys, In such a 6crape again.