  Old King Cole, his life and death.[? Written between 1830 and 1837] 1. 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 Glass, And he called for his Fiddlers three. There were Pa-gan-in-i 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. 2. 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 Chancery!): So his subjects to cloak from the very provok- ing Bills of an Attorney; Old King Cole turned his eyes to Coke, and a very good Lawyer was he. For old King Cole, &c. 3. 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 Secretary. So his mark for Rex was a single "X," And his drink was ditto double: For he scorned the fetters of four and twenty Letters, And it saved him a vast deal of trouble. For old King Cole, &c. 4. Old King Cole was a musical Soul, So he called for his Fiddlers three; And he served 'em out a dozen pounds of best German resin, And they played him a Symphony. Spagnioletti and Mori, they play an Oratori; While the great Pa-gan-in-i Played God save the King, on a single string; And he went twelve octaves high! For old King Cole, &c. 5. Old King Cole loved smoking to his Soul, And a Pipe hard, clean, and dry; And Virginny and Canaster, from his Baccy Box went faster Than the "Dart" or the Brighton "Fly." With his Fiddlers three, and his Secretary, 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. 6. Old King Cole was a mellow old Soul And he loved for to lave his clay: But not with water; for he had in that quarter An hy-dro-pho-bi-a. So he always ordered Hemp for those that joined a Temp- erance Society; And he swore a Drop too much, should always finish such As refused for to wet t'other eye. For old King Cole, &c. 7. On old King Cole left cheek was a mole, So he called for his Secretary; And 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 would take place; But not what that something might be. For old King Cole, &c. 8. Old King Cole, he scratched his poll; And resigned 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 Pagan-in-i took Viotti in G; And his Concerto played he: But at page forty-four, King Cole began to snore: So they parted company. For old King Cole, &c. 9. Old King Cole drank so much Alcohol That he reeked 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 was a merry old Soul, And a merry old Soul was he: He called for his Pipe, and he called for his Glass, And he called for his Fiddlers three. THE END OF THE TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES. 1. Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible. |
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