Page:The Folk-Lore Journal Volume 2 1884.djvu/13

Rh For in a moment's time, you rascal,
 * I will bring you to your silent grave.

Valiant Soldier. I have travelled England, Ireland, Scotland,
 * France, Spain, and Wales, for what St. George shall have his will,
 * You Turkish dog I soon will kill.

Bold Prince. In comes I Bold Prince, with spear in hand,
 * Bid thee thy foes to fear not. Stand,
 * Stand St. George, that great man of command,
 * The ruler over the British land,
 * Advance the power this very hour;
 * Gallant sons you must obey,
 * Let fly your hands, and fight on my lads, with a good huzza! hooray!
 * There, ladies and gentlemen, see what I have done,
 * I have cut him down like the evening sun.

Noble Captain. Oh fie! oh fie! my man is slain,
 * And on this ground his body laid;
 * Oh, for some doctor I must seek
 * While my man lies bleeding here so deep.
 * Oh doctor, doctor! come with speed
 * To heal the sick, and raise the dead:
 * Oh, is there a doctor to be found
 * To raise this dead man from the ground?

Father Christmas. Oh, yes, here's a doctor well and good,
 * With my hand I am endeavouring to stop the blood;
 * Stop the blood, and heal the wound,
 * And raise that dead man from the ground.

Father Christmas. Well, Doctor, what can you cure? Doctor. Cure the hipsy, pipsy, palsy pains, and the gout,
 * All raging pains both in and out,
 * A broken leg, or a broken arm;
 * And if that man's neck was broke