OLD KING COLE.

Old King Cole was a jolly
     old soul,
And a fine old soul was
he,
He loved his pipe and he
loved his bowl,
And his merry compan-ee.

One day, alas, it came to
pass,
He missed his Fiddlers
Three;
When they were found,
'twas whispered
round,
They'd been on an awful
spree.

To their dismay the very
next day,
They were hailed before
the King,
"We'll be hanged," they
groaned and tearfully
moaned,
As escorted they were
to him.

Now Old King Cole was
no bad old soul,
As we may have said
before,
And to see their plight
was so funny a sight,
He shook with roar on
roar.

Then in tone severe fell
on their ear,
"Explain yourselves --
prithee."
"'Twas that d--- dope they
sell up town,
Most sorry stuff, Oh,
me!"

The King swore loud "We
may well believe
And this be our decree,
That pardoned and Scot-
free you go tho guilty
as you be,
Provided that from this
day on,
You drink good Fels
Whisk-ee!"