From Tony Pastor's Book of Six Hundred Comic Songs and Speeches by Tony Pastor (New York: Dick & Fitzgerald, 1867), page 63:


THE ENGLISHMAN, IRISHMAN, AND SCOTCHMAN;
Or, Dearly You must pay for your Mutton,
As sung by Tony Pastor.

Air—"Yankee Volunteers."

As an Englishman, an Irishman,
And a Scotchman, too, one day,
Were 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 one and have a fill."

The notion was agreed on—
To the fields they went together;
There being a lot to choose from,
They picked a fine wether.
One held the head, the other the legs,
The other drew his knife;
To keep them three 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 wizen!"
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 into a book—
Said he, "This is a case for hanging!"
The black cap put on his head;
"John Bull, Paddy, and Sawney,
You must be swung up till you're dead.

"But I will 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 away from home;
So anywhere you like to name,
You are all welcome."

Air—"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 up me,
Since us three you're going to disband."
"All right," says the judge, "away you may trudge,
Away back to your cell;
To-morrow morn, as true as you're born,
On the bough of an oak you shall dwell—
Yes, you shall croak on the bough of an oak,
But sorry I am to see such a glutton;
You all had your fill, and the poor baa-lamb did kill,
So dearly must pay for your mutton."

Air—"Bonny Dundee."

Then up spoke poor Scotty, of Scotland he spoke:
"On Scotland's highest mountain let my neck be broke;
Let me breathe my last moments in air pure and free—
Oh, give me some snuff, and in peace I will die."
"All right," says the judge, "that favor I'll grant;
Take him away—let him not snuff want;
Let him breathe his last moments in air pure and free"—
They did for ten minutes, and skewed up Scotty.

Air—" Erin go Bragh!"

"Musha agra," says poor Paddy, "if I'm afther dying,
On a gooseberry-bush I'd like to be swung."
"On a gooseberry-bush?" says the judge, while on Paddy eyeing,
"Sure there is not 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 every one knows;
But as for the hanging, faith I'm in no hurry—
If it pleases your honor, I'll wait till it grows!"