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Lyr Add: Old King Cole
DigiTrad:
OLD KING COLE
OLD KING COLE (2)
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Subject: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Jim Dixon Date: 05 Mar 09 - 09:09 PM As a kid, I learned a short version of this as a nursery rhyme, and only recently learned that there's more to it. From The Nursery Rhymes of England By James Orchard Halliwell-Phillipps (which was published as part of "Early English Poetry, Ballads, and Popular Literature of the Middle Ages" by The Percy Society, 1841: Old King Cole Was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; And he called for his pipe, And he called for his glass, And he called for his fiddlers three. And every fiddler, he had a fine fiddle, And a very fine fiddle had he; "Tweedle dee, tweedle dee," said the fiddlers. Oh there's none so rare, As can compare, With King Cole and his fiddlers three! [Alternate versions:] I. Old King Coel Was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; Old King Coel, He sat in his hole, And he call'd for his fiddlers three, &c. The first, he was an Irishman; The second, he was a Scot; The third, he was a Welshman; And all were rogues, I wot. The Irishman lov'd usquebaugh; The Scot was drown'd in ale; The Welshman had like to be chok'd by a mouse, But he pull'd her out by the tail. II. Old King Coel Was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; Old King Coel, He sat in his hole, And he call'd for his pipers three. The first, he was a miller; The second, he was a weaver; The third, he was a tailor; And all were rogues together. The miller, he stole corn; The weaver, he stole yarn; The little tailor stole broad-cloth, To keep these three rogues warm. The miller was drown'd in his dam; The wearer was hung in his loom; And the devil ran away with the little tailor, With the broad-cloth under his arm. |
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Subject: Lyr Add: THE LIFE AND DEATH OF OLD KING COLE From: Jim Dixon Date: 05 Mar 09 - 09:11 PM From In Praise of Ale by W. T. Marchant (London: George Redway, 1888): THE LIFE AND DEATH OF OLD KING COLE. The last new Version. Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; He call'd for his pipe, he call'd for his glass, And he call'd for his fiddlers three. There was Paganini and Spagnioletti, And to make up the three, Mori; For King Cole he was fond of a tri— —O, fond of a trio was he. For old King Cole, &c. Old King Cole kept court at the "Hole O' the wall" in Chancery— —Lane, near the street, which is termèd "Fleet," (A queer name for Chanceree,) So his subjects to cloak, from the very provok— —ing bills of an attornee. Old King Cole turn'd his eyes to Coke, And a very good lawyer was he. For old King Cole, &c. Old King Cole, though a merry old soul, Not read nor write could he; For to read and write, 'twere useless quite, When he kept a secretaree. So his mark for "Rex" was a single "X" And his drink was ditto double; For he scorn'd the fetters of four and twenty letters, And it sav'd him a vast deal of trouble. For old King Cole, &c. Old King Cole, was a musical soul, So he call'd for his fiddlers three; And he serv'd 'em out a dozen pounds of best German resin, And they play'd him a symphony. Spagnioletti and Mori, they played an oratori, While the great Paganini Play'd "God save the King" on a single string, And he went twelve octaves high. For old King Cole, &c. Old King Cole lov'd smoking to his soul, And a pipe, hard, clean, and dry; And Virginny and C'naster from his baccy-box went faster, Than the "Dart," or the "Brighton Fly." With his fiddlers three, and his secretaree, He'd kick up such a furious fume, You'd think all the gas of London in a mass, Had met in his little back-room. For old King Cole, &c. Old King Cole was a mellow old soul, And he lov'd for to lave his clay, But not with water, for he had in that quarter, An hydrophobia. So he always ordered hemp for those that join'd a temp— —erance society; And he swore a drop too much, should always finish such As refuse for to wet t'other eye. For old King Cole, &c. On old King Cole's left cheek was a mole, So he call'd for his secretaree; And he bade him look in a fortune-telling book, And read him his destiny. And the secretary said, when his fate he had read, And cast his nativity: A mole on the face, boded something might take place, But not what that something might be. For old King Cole, &c. Old King Cole, he scratch'd his pole, And resign'd to his fate was he; And he said it is our will, that our pipe and glass you fill, And call for our fiddlers three. So Paganini took Viotti in by, And his concerto play'd he; But at page forty-four King Cole began to snore, So they parted company. For old King Cole, &c. Old King Cole drank so much alcohol, That he reek'd like the worm of a still; And while lighting his pipe, he set himself alight, And he blew up like a gunpowder mill. And these are the whole of the records of King Cole, From the Cotton Library, If you like you can see 'em at the British Museum, In Russell Street, Bloomsbury. For old King Cole, &c. His subjects duly followed the example of their King |
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Subject: Lyr Add: OLD KING COLE From: Jim Dixon Date: 05 Mar 09 - 09:12 PM This song appears with musical notation in Franklin Square Song Collection, No. 7 by John Piersol McCaskey (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1891) OLD KING COLE Traditional 1. Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he. He call'd for his pipe, and he call'd for his bowl, And he call'd for his fiddlers three, And ev'ry fiddler had a fine fiddle, And ev'ry fiddler had a fine fiddle, And a very fine fiddle had he; And a very fine fiddle had he, CHORUS: For Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; He call'd for his pipe, and he call'd for his bowl, And he call'd for his fiddlers three. 2. Old King Cole was a merry old soul, Nor read nor write could he, For to read and write, 'twere useless quite, When he kept a secretary. So his mark for "Rex" was a single "X"— And his drink was ditto double, For he scorn'd the fetters of four-and-twenty letters And it sav'd him a vast deal of trouble. CHORUS. |
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Subject: Lyr Add: OLD KING COLE From: Jim Dixon Date: 05 Mar 09 - 09:15 PM From Marlborough Upper School Songs (Marlborough: Printed at "The Times" Office, 1901): OLD KING COLE. Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl, And he called for his fiddlers three: Fiddle-diddle-dee, went the fiddlers, Fiddle-diddle-dee; But none were there who could compare With the sons of harmony. Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl, And he called for his fifers three: Twee, twee, twee, went the fifers, Twee, twee, twee; Fiddle-diddle-dee, went the fiddlers, Fiddle-diddle-dee; But none were there who could compare With the sons of harmony. [Similarly:] ... harpers ... Twang, twang, twang ... ... buglers ... Too, too, too ... ... drummers ... Dr-r-r-r-r-um ... ... double-basers ... Grunt, grunt, grunt ... |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Bryn Pugh Date: 06 Mar 09 - 08:54 AM Wot ? No rude version ? |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Mr Happy Date: 06 Mar 09 - 10:06 AM Here 'tis: OLD KING COLE Old King Cole was a bugger for 쳌eis 쳌eole And a bugger for 쳌eis 쳌eole was 쳌ee He called for his wife in the middle of the night And he called for his fiddlers three. And every fiddler had a fine fiddle, and a very fine fiddle had he. Fiddle diddle dee, diddle dee, cried the fiddlers, Jolly fine men are we There's none so rare as can compare with the Cheshire Yeomanry |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Nigel Parsons Date: 06 Mar 09 - 11:31 AM OLD KING COLE Old King Cole was a bugger for his hole And a bugger for hole was he He called for his wife in the middle of the night And he called for his fiddlers three. And every fiddler had a good fiddle, and a very good fiddle had he. Fiddle diddle dee, diddle dee, cried the fiddlers, Jolly fine men are we There's none so fair as can compare with the boys of the RFC (Rugby Football Club) Old King Cole was a bugger for his hole And a bugger for hole was he He called for his wife in the middle of the night And he called for his jugglers three. And every juggler had a good juggle, and a very good juggle had he. Throw your balls in the air cried the jugglers Fiddle diddle dee, diddle dee, cried the fiddlers, Jolly fine men are we There's none so fair as can compare with the boys of the RFC There were other verses which I can't at present recall! Each verse incresed the length of the chorus by one line. Cheers Nigel |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Mr Happy Date: 06 Mar 09 - 11:35 AM 'Lay it on the slab, on the slab said the butcher' 'Slap it up and down, up and down said the fishmonger' 'D'ye want it in the back or the front said the coalmen' |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Snuffy Date: 06 Mar 09 - 06:42 PM "Toss your balls in the air" said the jugglers "Slap your meat on the block" said the butchers "Lay it on the slab, on the slab" said the fishmongers "Slap it up and down, up and down" said the painters etc |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Joe_F Date: 06 Mar 09 - 09:17 PM "Do you want it in the front or in the back?" said the coalmen. (bag) "Fill that tart with cream" said the bakers. (tart) "Stick it in and out, in and out" said the tailors. (needle) ...Merry, merry men are we! There's none so fair as can compare With the boys of the varsity. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Mr Happy Date: 07 Mar 09 - 01:24 PM Up to now in this thread, there쳌fs a number of differing endings for the last line of each verse, as But none were there who could compare with the sons of harmony. Or There's none so rare as can compare with the Cheshire Yeomanry Or There's none so fair as can compare with the boys of the RFC Or There's none so fair as can compare with the boys of the varsity. Any more? |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Leadfingers Date: 07 Mar 09 - 02:58 PM When I was in RAF training , it was the (Add Number) th Entry !! For MY Lot , Eighty Eighth Entry ! (A Squadron R A F Locking !! |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Snuffy Date: 07 Mar 09 - 04:52 PM Or just the squadron number. A local morris musician/air traffic controller sings something like this: Fifteen miles off course, said the navigator Dot dash dot dot dash said the wireless op Left left left left RIGHT said the bombardier I don't give two ****** said the pilot Merry merry men are we There's none so rare as can compare With the boys of 33 |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: GUEST,JimP Date: 22 Aug 11 - 12:00 AM A good friend of mine sings this in a Music Hall show in San Francisco, and they sing "There's none so rare as can compare with the boys of the W.C." I don't know where they got this ending, and even the folks singing it don't really know what it might refer to. Any thoughts? Is this some sort of cockney rhyming slang? Did someone just get the lyric wrong? |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: GUEST,Lighter Date: 22 Aug 11 - 10:34 AM "W.C." is an abbreviation of "water closet," an old name for a lavatory. I suppose it fits. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: GUEST,JimP Date: 22 Aug 11 - 07:16 PM Well, sure, we discussed that kind of W.C., but that didn't seem right. Still, if there's no other guesses or opinions . . . |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Peter the Squeezer Date: 23 Aug 11 - 03:10 PM From my school bus days "He called for a light in the middle of the night To go for a wee wee wee." |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: GUEST,kath Date: 06 Aug 16 - 05:13 AM none so rare as can compare with the boys from the aussie Naveeee |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: GUEST Date: 06 Aug 16 - 11:07 AM Ole King Cole was merry old soul with a buckskin belly and a rubber asshole |
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Subject: Lyr Add: Old King Cole (military) From: Joe Offer Date: 02 Mar 18 - 09:28 PM I've heard this before, but not in the Army. I can't find it posted at Mudcat: OLD KING COLE (CADENCE COUNT) Old King Cole was a merry old soul and a merry old soul was he He called for his pipe and called for his bowl And he called for his privates, three Beer, Beer, Beer said the privates Merry men are we But none so fair that they can compare to the airborne infantry (alt: fighting infantry) Old King Cole was a merry old soul and a merry old soul was he He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl and he called for his corporals, three I need a three-day pass said the corporals Beer, Beer, Beer said the privates Merry men are we But none so fair that they can compare to the airborne infantry Additional Verses: Sergeants three–“File from the left, column right said the Sgts” Lieuues three–“I’ll lead the way said the lieuies” Captains three–“Charge that hill said the captains” Majors three–“Who’s gonna shine my boots said the majors” Colonels three–“Where’s my star said the colonels” Generals three–“War, War, War” Source: https://www.armystudyguide.com/content/Prep_For_Basic_Training/Prep_for_basic_general_information/common-marching-cadence.shtml Any other versions? |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: GUEST,Gerry Date: 02 Mar 18 - 09:41 PM The Yiddish song, Der Rebbe Elimelech, is often said to be a version of Old King Cole, but whether there is any actual historical connection between the two songs, I know not. Let me add the lyrics. -Joe Offer-
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Subject: Lyr Add: Old King Cole (Military) From: Joe Offer Date: 02 Mar 18 - 10:02 PM This version is from the album titled An Evening With Harry Belafonte OLD KING COLE (MILITARY) Old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he Called for his pipe And he called for his bowl And he called for his privates three "Beer, beer, beer", said the privates Merry men are we There's none so fair as can compare With the Fighting Infantry Shout: "Hut, two three four; Hut, two, three, four." Old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he Called for his pipe And he called for his bowl And he called for his corporals three Hup two said the corporals Beer, beer, beer said the privates Merry men are we There's none so fair as can compare With the Fighting Infantry Shout: "Hut, two three four; Hut, two, three, four." Old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he Called for his pipe And he called for his bowl And he called for his sergeants three Yeahhhhh, said the sergeants Hup two said the corporals Beer, beer, beer said the privates Merry men are we There's none so fair as can compare With the Fighting Infantry Shout: "Hut, two three four; Hut, two, three, four." Old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he Called for his pipe And he called for his bowl And he called for his shavetails three We do all the work said the shavetails Yeahhhh, said the sergeants March you dump watch (???) said the corporals Beer, beer, beer said the privates Merry men are we There's none so fair as can compare With the Fighting Infantry Shout: "Hut, two three four; Hut, two, three, four." Old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he Called for his pipe And he called for his bowl And he called for his captains three Oh don't be late for the dance said the captains We do all the work, said the shavetails Yeahhhhh said the sergeants March to the guardhouse said the corporals Beer, beer, beer said the privates Merry men are we There's none so fair as can compare With the Fighting Infantry Shout: "Hut, two three four; Hut, two, three, four." Old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he Called for his pipe And he called for his bowl And he called for his chaplains three Oh what a bloody mess, amen amen hallelujah Oh don't be late for the dance, said the captains We do all the work, said the shavetails Yeahhhh said the sergeants Put it in a bucket said the corporals Beer, beer, beer said the privates Merry men are we There's none so fair as can compare With the Fighting Infantry Shout: "Hut, two three four; Hut, two, three, four." Old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he Called for his pipe And he called for his bowl And he called for his colonels three Oh what a lovely war, said the colonels Oh what a bloody mess, amen, amen hallelujah Oh don't be late for the dance said the captains We do al the work said the shavetails Yeahhhhh said the sergeants March to the end said the corporals Beer, beer, beer said the privates Merry men are we There's none so fair as can compare With the Fighting Infantry Shout: "Hut, two three four; Hut, two, three, four." Old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he Called for his pipe And he called for his bowl And he called for his generals three Thuh, thuh, Oh come on fellahs, give a fellah break Uh what's my next command said the generals Oh what a lovely war said the colonels Oh what a bloody mess, amen Oh what a bloody mess said the captains Oh what a bloody mess, said the shavetails Oh what a bloody mess, said the sergeants Oh what a bloody mess said the sergeants Beer, beer, beer said the privates Merry men are we There's none so fair as can compare With the Fighting Infantry Source: https://genius.com/Harry-belafonte-old-king-cole-lyrics Corrected according to this recording: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qiSGTvXIDCI |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: GUEST,Mike Yates Date: 03 Mar 18 - 08:44 AM There is a very good version on the new Freda Palmer double CD "Leafield Lass" (Musical Traditions CD MTCD375-6), which should be available in the next week or so. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Lighter Date: 03 Mar 18 - 09:43 AM The military version (with somewhat different dialogue) was known in the U.S. Army in WW1 - according to Edward Arthur Dolph's "Sound Off!" (1929). With words closer to Belafonte's, I believe it was first recorded on Oscar Brand's "G.I. Songs" around 1956. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Dave the Gnome Date: 03 Mar 18 - 11:10 AM St Mary's Catholic club, Swinton, used to finish the verses with 'and no one here can drink their beer like the boys from St Mary's ' instead at the compare line. DtG |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Steve Gardham Date: 03 Mar 18 - 03:44 PM Going back to the W.C. Old King Cole was a merry old soul and a merry old soul was he. He called for a light in the middle of the night to go to the W.C. The wind it blew the light out, his valet had a fit, And Old King Cole fell down the lavvy hole and swallowed a lump of s... |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Jackaroodave Date: 04 Mar 18 - 06:35 AM The shortest one I know goes "Old King Cole was a merry old fart" Folklore pedantry: Among pubescent males in the late 1950s/early 60s (Western NE, NY, NJ) there was a spate of jokes or catch phrases consisting of rudely truncated nursery rhymes. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Lighter Date: 04 Mar 18 - 10:55 AM You mean like, Little Miss Muffet Sat on a tuffet, Eating her curds and whey. Along came a spider, And sat down beside her, And said, "What's up bitch?" Jack be nimble! Jack be quick! Jack, jump over the candlestick! Jack burnt his prick. Jack and Jill Went up the hill. But not to get water. There was an old lady who lived in a shoe. She had so many children she didn't know what to do. Use birth control! The British army in WW2 had a song about Robinson Crusoe that was somewhat similar. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Steve Gardham Date: 04 Mar 18 - 10:58 AM There's a bawdy version that starts 'OKC was a bugger for his hole and a bugger for his hole was he' but I can't remember any more.... |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Jackaroodave Date: 04 Mar 18 - 11:13 AM Yeah, Lighter, like that. Part of the "humor" was the rhythmic wrong-footing of the abrupt ending. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: GUEST,Mike Yates Date: 05 Mar 18 - 04:39 AM Re: There was an old lady who lived in a shoe. She had so many children she didn't know what to do. Use birth control! My favourite version has the same first two lines, but the third is "But the Pope wouldn't let her". |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Steve Gardham Date: 05 Mar 18 - 10:29 AM Jon, re Robinson Crusoe, are you thinking of the verse in 'When there isn't a Girl About'? Poor Robinson Crusoe, all on his ownio, He sat upon a rock, a winding up his clock, When up came Friday and sat down beside him, He whipped his old bazooka out and this is what he said, Get hold o' this, get hold o' that, When there isn't a girl about you do feel lonely When there isn't a girl about you're on your only Absolutely on the shelf Nothing to do but play wi' yourself When there isn't a girl about. Original clean version 1906, Harry Castling and Charles Collins. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Lighter Date: 05 Mar 18 - 10:41 AM Yes, Steve, that's it. Subsequent stanzas are mostly nursery rhymes with each one ending, "So he whipped his old bazooka out and this is what he said:" |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Steve Gardham Date: 05 Mar 18 - 04:25 PM Little Miss Muffet/Little Jack Horner. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: clueless don Date: 06 Mar 18 - 08:12 AM I realize that I'm not adding anything to the discussion, but just for completeness: When I was a boy, I learned Old King Cole was a merry old soul and a merry old soul was he He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl and he called for his fiddlers three And that was it - that was all I ever heard as a boy. But years later my wife supplied these additional lines and every fiddler had a fiddle and a very fine fiddle had he tweet tweetly deet tweetly deet tweetly deet went the fiddler three Don |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: GUEST,Mike Yates Date: 13 Mar 18 - 11:24 AM Here is Freda Palmer's text - from the new Musical Traditions double CD: Old King Cole (Roud 1164) Old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he He called for his pipe and he called for his light And he called for his fiddlers three. Now every fiddler has a fiddle A very fine fiddle has he “Oh fiddle diddle dee, diddle dee” Said the fiddler “Oh what harmony There’s none so rare as can compare With boys of harmony Now old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he He called for his pipe and he called for his light And he called for his fluters three. Now every fluter has a flute A very fine flute has he “Oh flute tiddley oot ,tiddley oot” says the fluter “Fiddle diddle dee, diddle dee” Said the fiddler “Oh what harmony There’s none so rare as can compare With boys of harmony Now old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he He called for his pipe and he called for his light And he called for his painters three. Now every painter has a brush And a very fine brush has he “Oh slap it up and down, up and down” says the painter “Oh flute tiddley oot ,tiddley oot” says the fluter “Fiddle diddle dee, diddle dee” Said the fiddler “Oh what harmony There’s none so rare as can compare With boys of harmony Now old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he He called for his pipe and he called for his light And he called for his tailors three. Now every tailor has a stitch, a very fine stitch has he “Oh stick it in and out, in and out” says the tailor, slap it up and down, up and down” says the painter “Oh flute tiddley oot ,tiddley oot” says the fluter “Fiddle diddle dee, diddle dee” Said the fiddler “Oh what harmony There’s none so rare as can compare With boys of harmony Now old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he He called for his pipe and he called for his light And he called for his barmaids three. Now every barmaid has a pull, a very fine pull has she “Oh pull it, pull it, pull it, pull it,” says the barmaid “Stick it in and out, in and out” says the tailor, “Oh slap it up and down, up and down” says the painter “Oh flute tiddley oot ,tiddley oot” says the fluter “Fiddle diddle dee, diddle dee” Said the fiddler “Oh what harmony There’s none so rare as can compare With boys of harmony Now old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he He called for his pipe and he called for his light And he called for his butchers three. Now every butcher has a block and a very fine block has he “Oh slap it on the block, on the block” says the butcher Pull it, pull it, pull it, pull it,” says the barmaid “Stick it in and out, in and out” says the tailor, “Slap it up and down, up and down” says the painter “Oh flute tiddley oot ,tiddley oot” says the fluter “Fiddle diddle dee, diddle dee” Said the fiddler “Oh what harmony There’s none so rare as can compare With boys of harmony Now old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he He called for his pipe and he called for his light And he called for his jugglers three. Now every juggler has some balls, some very fine balls has he “Oh balls in the air, in the air” says the juggler “Oh slap it on the block, on the block” says the butcher “Pull it, pull it, pull it, pull it,” says the barmaid “Stick it in and out, in and out” says the tailor, “Oh slap it up and down, up and down” says the painter “Oh flute tiddley oot ,tiddley oot” says the fluter “Fiddle diddle dee, diddle dee” Said the fiddler “Oh what harmony There’s none so rare as can compare With boys of harmony Now old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he He called for his pipe and he called for his light And he called for his farmers three. Now every farmer has a cock, and a very fine cock has he “Oh cock-a-doodle-oo, doodle-oo” says the farmer “Oh balls in the air, in the air” says the juggler “Oh slap it on the block, on the block” says the butcher “Pull it, pull it, pull it, pull it,” says the barmaid “Stick it in and out, in and out” says the tailor, “Oh slap it up and down, up and down” says the painter “Oh flute tiddley oot ,tiddley oot” says the fluter “Fiddle diddle dee, diddle dee” Said the fiddler “Oh what harmony There’s none so rare as can compare With boys of harmony Now old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he He called for his pipe and he called for his light And he called for his parsons three. Now every parson has a book and a very fine book has he “May the Lord have mercy on your soul” said the parson “Cock-a-doodle-oo, doodle-oo” says the farmer “Balls in the air, in the air” says the juggler “Slap it on the block, on the block” says the butcher “Pull it, pull it, pull it, pull it,” says the barmaid “Stick it in and out, in and out” says the tailor, “Slap it up and down, up and down” says the painter “Flute tiddley oot ,tiddley oot” says the fluter “Fiddle diddle dee, diddle dee” Said the fiddler “Oh what harmony There’s none so rare as can compare With boys of harmony |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Lighter Date: 16 Mar 18 - 07:40 PM Here are some current US Marine Corps versions, courtesy of Mudcatter Azizi: http://pancocojams.blogspot.com/2014/05/chesty-puller-was-good-marine-marine.html I first encountered the Chesty Puller version in 1997; but since he died in 1971, I'll bet it's a quarter century older. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: GUEST Date: 07 Dec 18 - 12:51 AM I stumbled across this thread doing research into Elizabethan lighting! As a kid in London during the 1960s, we would sing the following; Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he. He called for a light in the middle of the night, To go to the Lavatory. The light blew through the keyhole, The candle had a fit. Old King Cole fell down the hole And got covered up in s***. We sometimes changed the last word to 'toilet paper' as a surprise ending, it obviously didn't fit and everyone knew what it should have been, but we would feign innocence. |
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Subject: Lyr Add: OLD KING COLE (WW1 A.S.C. version) From: Jim Dixon Date: 30 Oct 19 - 05:36 PM From Tommy's Tunes: A Comprehensive Collection of Soldiers' Songs, ... [by Frederick Thomas Nettleingham] (London: Erskine Macdonald Ltd., 1917), page 32: OLD KING COLE. (A.S.C. VERSION.) 1. Old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he. He called for his pipe and called for his bowl And he called for his privates three. Now every private had a great thirst, And a very great thirst had he. “Beer! Beer!! Beer!!! Beer!!!!” said the privates. “Very merry men are we, For there's none so fair as can compare With the boys of the A.S.C.” 2. Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he. He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl And he called for his sergeants three. Now every sergeant had a loud voice, And a very loud voice had he. “Move to the right in fours,” said the sergeants. “Beer! Beer!! Beer!!! Beer!!!!” said the privates. “Very merry men are we, For there's none so fair as can compare With the boys of the A.S.C.” 3. ... subalterns ... a big grouse ... “We do all the work,” said the subalterns ... 4. ... captains ... a fine figure ... “We want three months' leave,” said the captains ... 5. ... adjutants ... a pair of fine spurs ... “Where the hell's my horse?” said the adjutants ... 6. ... majors ... a big swear ... “Blankety, blankety, blank,” said the majors ... 7. ... colonels ... a sore head ... “What's the next word of command?” said the colonels ... 8. ... generals ... two red tabs ... “What's the plan of campaign?” said the generals ... |
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Subject: Lyr Add: OLD KING COLE (1823) From: Jim Dixon Date: 30 Oct 19 - 06:15 PM From Hodgson's New Skylark; or, Theatrical budget of harmony ... by M. Bryant (London: Hodgson & Co., 1823), page 22: OLD KING COLE. As Sung by Miss Copeland, at the Surrey Theatre, in Harlequin Hoax. 1. Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; He call’d for his bottle, and he called for his glass, And he called for his fiddlers three. And every fiddler had a fiddle, And a very fine fiddle had he; "Tweedle dee, tweedle dee," says the fiddler, And so merry shall they be; For none there are that can compare With the sons of harmony. 2. Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And he called for his harpers three; And every harper had a harp, And a very fine harp had he. "Twang, twang, twang, twang," says the harper; "Tweedle dee, tweedle dee," says the fiddler; And so merry, &c. 3. Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And he call’d for his fifers three; And every fifer had a fife, And a very fine fife had he. "Toodle loo, loodle loo,” says the fifer, And so merry, &c. 4. Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And he call’d for his drummers three; And every drummer had a drum, And a very fine drum had he. "Rub a dub, rub a dub," says the drummer, And so merry, &c. 5. Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And he call’d for his trumpeters three; And every trumpeter had a trumpet, And a very tine trumpet had he. "Ran ta tan, ran ta tan," says the trumpeter, And so merry, &c. 6. Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And he call’d for his tailors three; And every tailor had a needle, And a very fine needle had he. "In and out, through the coat," says the tailor, And so merry, &c. 7. Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And he call’d for his cobblers three; And every cobbler had an awl, And a very fine awl had he. "Bore a hole through the sole," says the cobbler; "In and out, through the coat," says the tailor; "Ran ta tan, ran ta ran," says the trumpeter; "Rub a dub, rub a dub," says the drummer; "Toodle loo, toodle loo," says the fifer; "Twang, twang, twang, twang," says the harper; "Twcedle dee, tweedle dee," says the fiddler; And so merry we will be; For none there are, who can compare, With the sons of harmony! |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Joe Offer Date: 31 Oct 19 - 12:56 AM Then, of course, there's also: THREW IT OUT THE WINDOW Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl, And he threw them out the window, The window, The second story window He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl, And he threw them out the window. And so on, using as many nursery rhymes as fit. We did about ten of them last Saturday, until we broke down laughing. The kids thought we were weird. It's in the U.S. Boy Scout Songbook More (click) -Joe- |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Lighter Date: 31 Oct 19 - 09:50 AM “A Medley,” in Robert Pickersgill, ed., Mirth’s Magazine: or Momus’s Fund, a Collection of Humorous Songs, &c., from the most celebrated authors (London: ptd. for the compiler, [?1785]) includes the following “medleyed” lines (p. 23): “Old King Cole he call’d for his bowl And he call’d for…” |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Lighter Date: 31 Oct 19 - 10:09 AM [U.S. Army] Antiaircraft Journal, Vol. 73 (September, 1930), p. 285: "This camp song was concocted, in part, by a few of the boys of Battery 'A,' 211th Coast Artillery (AA), (the old First Corps Cadets), Maine N. G. Colonel Dusenbury sent it in with the advice that some verses are to be sung with fervor, others lowly and sweetly, but that the last line of each verse is sung at the top of your lungs. The 211th hopes that it may cheer up other organizations. CAMP SONG Air: Old King Cole Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he. He called for his pipe And he called for his bowl And he called for his Privates three. BEER, BEER, BEER, said the Privates, Merry men are we. There's none so rare as can compare with the Coast Artillery. 2. (Repeat first four lines and add): And he called for his Corporals three; GIDDAP, GIDDAP, said the Corporals, BEER, BEER, BEER, said the Privates, Merry men are we. There's none so rare as can compare with the Coast Artillery. 3. (Repeat first four lines and add): And he called for his Sergeants three; FORWARD, RIGHT BY SQUADS, said the Sergeants, GIDDAP, GIDDAP, said the Corporals, BEER, BEER, BEER, said the Privates, Merry men are we. There's none so rare as can compare with the Coast Artillery. 4. (Repeat first four lines and add): And he called for his 'LIEU-ES' three; We do all the work said the 'LIEU-ES.' (Repeat lines for Sergeants, Corporals, and Privates) Merry men are we. There's none so rare as can compare with the Coast Artillery. " |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Lighter Date: 31 Oct 19 - 10:37 AM The version heard by John S. Eberhardt in 1941 in the U.S. 112th Field Artillery, Fort Bragg, N.C., has the same form, with the final verses as follows (from "The Old Gray Mare," N.Y.: iUniverse, 2005, pp. 129-32): "The colonel's wife's too fat," said the generals, "Nuts, nuts, nuts!" said the colonels, "The army's gone to hell!" said the majors, "Where are my boots and spurs!" said the captains, "We do all the work," said the loot'nants, "Forward, right by squads," said the sergeants "Hut-two, hut-two, hut," said the corporals "Beer, beer, beer ," said the privates, "Merry men are we. There's none so fair, as can compare With the Horse Artillery." |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Lighter Date: 31 Oct 19 - 10:54 AM From "The Rasp: [Yearbook of] The Cavalry School, the Army of the United States," Fort Riley, Kans., 1928, p. 261: OLD KING COLE (With apologies to The Royal Field Artillery) Old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he. He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl, And he called for his Privates Three. B-e-e-r. b-e-e-r, BEER said the Privates Merry, merry men are we There was no one there that could compare With the (Umpthieth) Cavalree. [As usual:] Corporals...'O-n-e, t-w-o, t-h-r-e-e' Sergeants...'Four, right by fours' Shavetails...'We got too much work' Captains...'We want three months' leave' Majors...'What's our next command?' Colonels...'How do you fix these spurs?' Generals...'The Army's gone to Hell.' "Begin all over and continue Ad Nauseum [sic] or until the inspiration gives out." |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Lighter Date: 31 Oct 19 - 11:09 AM Spectator (Dec. 16, 1916), p. 765: 'Old King Cole' is merely the latest version of a very old soldiers' song. The song begins : — Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he, He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl, And he called for his privates three. Now every private had a great thirst, And a very great thirst had he — 'Beer, beer, beer, beer, beer,' said the privates, ' Merry, merry boys are we. For none there are that can compare With the boys of the new army.' "Each succeeding verse deals with the next in rank above up to the Colonel. Every subaltern had a great grouse, every Captain had a great cheek, every Major hod a great swear: — Now every colonel knew hang all, And very hang all knew he," are the introductory lines of the last verse. And the chorus is : — "What do we do next ? ' said the colonel, 'Blank, blank, blank, blank, blank,' said the major, 'Please may I have a year's leave ?' said the captain. 'We do all the work,' said the subaltern. ' 'Right about turn, quick march,' said the sergeant. 'Beer, beer, beer, beer, beer,' said the privates, ' Merry, merry boys are we. For none there are that can compare With the boys of the new army.' |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Karen Impola Date: 19 Jan 20 - 11:42 PM My father was a WWII vet, and he used to sing this. I was always meaning to get the whole thing from him, but I never did. I could swear that the President came into it somewhere. Did Old King Cole call for the Pres-i-dent in the final verse? Or did one of the topmost ranks make some comment about the President? "Get me the President" or "Ring me the President" would scan. But I may be inventing that. I don't find it in anyone else's version. I don't remember what rank said what, beyond the first few, but it definitely had: The army's gone to hell, said . . . (but it wasn't chaplains; I don't think there were chaplains in my dad's version) Where's my boots and spurs, said . . . We do all the work, said . . . I want ten(?) days leave, said . . . Right by squads, squads right, said . . . Hut-two, hut-two, hut, said . . . and of course: Beer, beer, beer, said the privates Merry men are we There's none so fair as can compare With the fighting infantry. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Karen Impola Date: 19 Jan 20 - 11:45 PM Here's a modern version, complete with Hummers and golf-playing colonels. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Joe Offer Date: 12 Jan 21 - 03:41 PM Edmund posted this Canadian version quite some time ago. It was nice to have a Canadian army officer here at Mudcat. We miss you, Edmund. Rest in peace. Thread #10803 Message #1981391 Posted By: CET 27-Feb-07 - 10:12 PM Thread Name: Cadence or Marching Songs Subject: RE: Cadence or Marching Songs
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Joe Offer Date: 12 Jan 21 - 03:48 PM Robert Rodriquez learned it this way from Jon Pickow: OLD KING COLE Old King Cole was a merry old soul, and a merry old soul was Old King Cole He called for his wife in the middle of the night, and he called for his privates three, Beer, beer, beer said the privates Merry merry men are we There’s none so fair that can compare with the Q.O.R. of C (or Fighting Infantry) Hut, two, hut two, hut, said the corporals Get the hell in line, said the sergeants We do all the work, said the shavetails (lefties) Hold my horse by the head, said the captains We want a ten-day pass, said the majors Where’s my next command, said the colonels This army’s gone to hell, said the generals Beer, beer, beer, said the generals…. Colonels, majors, captains, lefties, sergeants, corporals (from Jon Pickow through Robert Rodriquez) I pointed out to Robert that majors issue passes, and don't have to request them. And that passes are usually 3 days, not ten. Here's a recording by Harry Belafonte: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qiSGTvXIDCI |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: GerryM Date: 12 Jan 21 - 10:30 PM Here, for download, is a British Army printing from 1915. "This copy of the music originally belonged to Private Ernest Alfred Nicholls and features his name at the top of the front cover. It is part of a collection of sheet music that was donated to the Memorial in 1971, and is symbolic of the concerts, theatre and other musical performances that Australian soldiers took in whilst on leave in London during the First World War." |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: GUEST,Howard Jones Date: 13 Jan 21 - 05:44 PM This is the version my university mountaineering club used to sing: Old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he He called for his rope and he called for his boots And he called for his leaders three Now every leader was a fine leader And a very fine leader was he "Now follow that, follow that" said the leader "Jolly fine men are we There's none so rare as can compare With the lads of the [insert name of climbing club]" "I'm coming out, coming out" said the piton "I'm up the chute, up the chute" said the guidebook "I've got a piece of your thumb" said the snaplink "I've got the lunch, got the lunch" said the third man "I'm coming off, coming off" said the second man "Now follow that, follow that" said the leader "Jolly fine men are we There's none so rare as can compare With the lads of the [insert name of climbing club]" It's funnier after several pints in the back of a Welsh pub. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Lighter Date: 13 Jan 21 - 06:16 PM Nice find, Gerry. I notice the tune is different from the U.S. (and rugby?) version. P. S. Robinson, B.M. (app. "Bachelor of Music") appears to take credit only for the music. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: GUEST,djes Date: 23 Jan 21 - 04:53 PM Here's a sanitized Brit/Canadian army version! Old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he He called for his pipe & he called for his bowl And he called for his First CG [Corps of Guards? or Coldstream Guards ? ...] "What's the next command" said the Major "I want 6 months leave" said the Captain "We do all the work" said the Subalterns ? ? said the Sergeant Major 'Move to the Right in Fours" said the Sergeant "Left Right Left Right Left" said the Corporal "We want jam for tea" said the Guardsmen Merry, merry men are We There are none so fair as can compare With the Men of the First C G. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Lighter Date: 23 Jan 21 - 05:06 PM My guess is that "CG" stands for "Ceremonial Guard." https://encyclopedia.thefreedictionary.com/Ceremonial+Guard |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: GUEST Date: 24 Jan 21 - 04:45 PM The "boys of Harmony / RFC etc" version was, in my experience accompanied by actions, usually far more indecent than the words, and people would attempt to extemporise additional verses. |
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Subject: ADD: Old King Coal (John Kirkpatrick) From: RTim Date: 24 Jan 21 - 06:02 PM What about the alternative....... Tim Radford OLD KING COAL (John Kirkpatrick) Under the ground lay Old King Coal He lay most peacefully He ruled in might and splendour There was none so grand as he But men came along to tunnel him out And topple him from his throne The tore him down to steal his crown For the power in the old black stone (Chorus) There's fire in the heart of Old King Coal There's the strength of centuries in his soul There's a power that grows where his black blood flows So here's to Old King Coal So they scratched him, hacked him, and harried him out They ripped him from his bed And they blasted his bones asunder They'd sworn to see him dead Then they carried him out to the sun's bright light Which blinded him in the eye And the blood did drain from every vein Until they'd drained him dry (Chorus) Then they cracked his bones on the grinding stones How gleefully they did grind Oh how they pulverized him Turned him to dust so fine Then they sprayed him into the furnace fire And burned him in the air With a mighty blast they burned him fast As he prayed his final prayer (Chorus) And his soul cried out with a final song As he reached his final hour And his heart it burst with singing So mighty was the power And he sang the water into steam And the steam mnade the wheels fly round And the song ran on both pure and strong Till the wires hummed with its sound (Chorus) Out of the darkness there comes light Out of the earth comes fire Out of the cold comes comfort As his bones go blazing higher And his soul flies out through the air we breathe And down on the earth we tread That humankind may not forget That Old King Coal is dead (Chorus) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jfTfFJFx3ac |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Old King Cole From: Lighter Date: 28 Sep 22 - 08:20 PM The earliest version (I think), from David Herd's "Ancient and Modern Scots Songs" (1776). (Final verse only to save time and space:) Old King Coul he had a brown bowl, And they brought him in drummers three. Rub-a-dub, rub-a-dub, with the drummers; Twarra-rang, twarra-rang, with the trumpeters; Twingle-twangle, twingle-twangle, with the harpers; Ha-didell, how-didell, with the pipers; Fidell-didell, fidell-didell, with the fidlers three: And there's no a lass in a' Scotland Compared to our sweet MARJORIE. (Add liquor and serve.) |
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