Rambling Rake of Poverty

Lyrics:

(Air: "Son of a Gambolier")

Come, listen to my ditty, From Fredericton I steer, "Like every jolly fellow, I like my lager beer;" Like every jolly fellow, my ways are sometimes queer, For I'm a rambling rake of poverty, and a son of a Gambolier.

In the town of Fredericton I've often cut a dash, I've learnt the secret long ago to use my cheek for cash; I'm in with all the pretty girls, who call me "little dear," For I'm a rambling rake of poverty, and a son of a Gambolier.

O many a jolly time I've had, all through my college life, And when my sheepskin I obtain, I'll look then for a wife; I'll ask some girl that's got the rocks to wed me else I'll die, For I'm a rambling rake of poverty, and a son of a Gambolier.

She'll answer me in tones so sweet, "Yes, love, I'll be thine," And with the governor's pocketbook, O won't we cut a shine; We'll drive out in the park each day; O, how is that for high? For I'm a rambling rake of poverty and a son of a Gambolier.

O I wish I had a barrel of rum, and sugar three hundred pound, The chapel bell to put 'em in, and the clapper to stir 'em round; I'd drink to the health of the Fredericton girls, the darlings far and near, For I'm a rambling rake of poverty, and a son of a Gambolier.

Source(s):

• Carmina Universitatis Novi Brunsvici. Fredericton, NB: University of New Brunswick, 1881.

© UNB Archives & Special Collections, 2012