| I’d rather be a beggar than a king
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| Tell you the reason why
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| A king can’t swagger, nor drink like a beggar
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| Nor be half so happy as I
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| Let the back and sides go bare
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| Let the hands and feet go cold
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| Give to the belly beer enough
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| Whether it be new or old
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| Sometimes we call at a rich man’s hall
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| To beg for bread and beer
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| Sometimes we’re lame, sometimes we’re blind
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| Sometimes too deaf to hear
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| Let the back and sides go bare
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| Let the hands and feet go cold
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| Give to the belly beer enough
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| Whether it be new or old
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| Sometimes we lie like hogs in the sty
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| In a flock of straw on the ground
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| Sometimes eat a crust that’s rolled in the dust
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| And are thankful it can be found
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| Let the back and sides go bare
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| Let the hands and feet go cold
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| Give to the belly beer enough
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| Whether it be new or old
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| From the hag and the hungry goblin
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| That into rags would rend you
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| And the spirits that stand by the naked man
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| In the book of moons defend you
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| That of your five sound senses
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| You never be forsaken
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| Nor travel from yourselves with me
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| Abroad to beg your bacon
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| Let the back and sides go bare
|
| Let the hands and feet go cold
|
| Give to the belly beer enough
|
| Whether it be new or old
|
| Let the back and sides go bare
|
| Let the hands and feet go cold
|
| Give to the belly beer enough
|
| Whether it be new or old |