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[ti:] |
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[ar:] |
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[al:] |
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There is an inn, a merry old inn |
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beneath an old grey hill, |
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And there they brew a beer so brown |
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That the Man in the Moon himself came down |
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one night to drink his fill. |
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The ostler has a tipsy cat |
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that plays a five-stringed fiddle; |
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And up and down he runs his bow, |
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Now squeaking high, now purring low, |
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now sawing in the middle. |
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The landlord keeps a little dog |
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that is mighty fond of jokes; |
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When there's good cheer among the guests, |
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He cocks an ear at all the jests |
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and laughs until he chokes. |
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They also keep a horned cow |
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as proud as any queen; |
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But music turns her head like ale, |
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And makes her wave her tufted tail |
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and dance upon the green. |
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And O! the rows of silver dishes |
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and the store of silver spoons! |
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For Sunday there's a special pair, |
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And these they polish up with care |
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on Saturday afternoons. |
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The Man in the Moon was drinking deep, |
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and the cat began to wail; |
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A dish and a spoon on the table danced, |
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The cow in the garden madly pranced, |
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and the little dog chased his tail. |
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The Man in the Moon took another mug, |
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and then rolled beneath his chair; |
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And there he dozed and dreamed of ale, |
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Till in the sky the stars were pale, |
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and dawn was in the air. |
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Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat: |
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'The white horses of the Moon, |
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They neigh and champ their silver bits; |
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But their master's been and drowned his wits, |
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and the Sun will?be rising soon!' |
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So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle, |
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a jig that would wake the dead: |
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He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune, |
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While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon: |
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'It's after three!' he said. |
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They rolled the Man slowly up the hill |
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and bundled him into the Moon, |
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While his horses galloped up in rear, |
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And the cow came capering like a deer, |
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and a dish ran up with the spoon. |
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Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle; |
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the dog began to roar, |
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The cow and the horses stood on their heads; |
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The guests all bounded from their beds |
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and danced upon the floor. |
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With a ping and a pong the fiddle-strings broke! |
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the cow jumped over the Moon, |
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And the little dog laughed to see such fun, |
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And the Saturday dish went off at a run |
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with the silver Sunday spoon. |
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The round Moon rolled behind the hill |
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as the Sun raised up her head. |
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She hardly believed her fiery eyes; |
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For though it was day, to her surprise |
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they all went back to bed! |
