The Fine Old English Gentleman

Melody - & text: Henry Russell

I'll sing you an old ballad
That was made by an old pate,
Of a poor old English Gentleman
Who had an old estate,
He kept a brave old mansion
At a bountiful old rate
With a good old porter to relieve
The old poor at his gate
Like a fine old English gentleman,
All of the olden time.

His hall so old, was hung around
With pikes, and guns, and bows,
With swords, and good old bucklers, that
Had stood against many foes;
And there his worship sat in state,
In doublet, and trunk-hose
And quaffed a cup of good old wine,
To warm his good old nose
Like a fine old English gentleman,
All of the olden time.
  When winter cold brought Christmas old,
He opened house to all,
And, though three score and ten his years,
He featly led the ball;
Nor was the houseless wanderer
Then driven from the hall,
For, while he feasted all the great,
He ne'er forgot the small -
Like a fine old English gentleman,
All of the olden time.

But time, though old, is strong in flight,
And years roll'd swiftly by,
When autumn's falling leaf foretold
This poor old man must die!
He laid him down quite tranquilly,
Gave up life's latest sigh,
While heavy sadness fell around,
And tears bedewed each eye -
For this good old English gentleman,
All of the olden time.


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