  Air:—"Oh the Roast-Beef of Old England!" O we're very well fed, So we must not repine, Though turkey we've cut, And likewise the chine; But, oh! once a-year We should just like to dine On the roast-beef of Old England, Oh the old English roast-beef! O, the gruel's delicious, The taters divine— And our very small beer Is uncommonly fine; But with us we think You would not like to dine, Without the roast-beef of Old England, Oh the old English roast-beef! Our soup's very good, We really must own, But of what it is made Arn't very well known; So, without any soup We would much rather dine On the roast-beef of Old England, Oh the old English roast-beef! Mince-pies they are nice, And plum-pudding is fine. But we'd give up them both For "ribs" or "Sir Line," If for once in the year We could but just dine On the roast-beef of Old England, Oh the old English roast-beef! "Roast beef and plum-pudding" Is true Christmas fare, But they think that our morals Such dainties won't bear. Oh! oh! it is plain Ne'er more shall we share In the roast-beef of Old England, Oh the old English roast-beef. Still long life to the Queen Is the toast we'd be at; With a health to the Prince, May he live and grow fat! And may all under him Have abundance of that— What?—Why the roast-beef of England, Oh the old English roast-beef! |
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