The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #51775   Message #790389
Posted By: Joe Offer
24-Sep-02 - 12:55 PM
Thread Name: Lyr Req: Old Sir Simon the King
Subject: Lyr Add: OLD SIMON THE KING (from Maddy Prior)
Another version here (click) and interesting page of lyrics from Pills to Purge Melancholy, as recorded by Maddy Prior.

Words anon. from D'Urfey's Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge Melancholy 1719-1720.
Tune anon. from The Division Violin 1685 and Humphry Salter's The Genteel Companion 1683

In a humour I was of late,
As many good fellows be;
To think of no matters of State,
But seek for good Company:
That best contended me.
I travell'd up and down;
No Company could I find;
Till I came to the sight of the Crown:
My Hostess was sick of the Mumps,
The Maid was ill at ease,
The Tapster was drunk in his Dumps;
They were all of one disease,
Says old Simon the King.

Considering in my mind,
And thus I began to think;
If a man be full to his throat,
And cannot take off his drink,
If his drink will not down,
He may hang himself for shame;
So may the Tapster at the Crown,
Where all this reason I frame;
Drink will make a Man Drunk,
Drunk will make a Man dry;
Dry will make a Man sick
Sick will make a man die,
Says old Simon the King.

If a Man should be drunk to night,
And laid in his grave to morrow;
Will you or any man say,
That he died of Care or Sorrow ?
Hang up sorrow and care,
`Tis able to kill a Cat,
He that will drink all night,
Is never afraid of that !
Drinking will make a man Quaff,
Quaffing will make a man Sing;
Singing will make a man Laugh,
And laughing long life doth bring,
Says old Simon the King.

If a puritan Skinker cry,
Dear Brother it is a Sin,
To drink unless you be dry,
Then straight this tale I begin,
A Puritan left his Cann,
And took him to his Jugg,
And there he play'd the man,
As long as he could tugg:
When that he was spy'd,
What did he swear or rail;
No, no truly, dear Brother he cry'd,
Indeed all flesh is frail,
Says old Simon the King.

So Fellows, if you'll be drunk,
Of frailty it is a sin,
Or for to keep a punk,
Or play it In and In;
For Drink and Dice and Drabs,
Are all of one condition,
And will breed want and Scabs,
In spite of the Physician:
Who so fears every Grass,
Must never piss in a Meadow,
And he that loves a pot and a Lass,
Must never cry oh ! my head oh !
Says old Simon the King