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Old King Cole - Lyrics

Old King Cole was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he;
He called for his pipe,
And he called for his bowl,
And he called for his fiddlers three.
Every fiddler had a fiddle,
And a very fine fiddle had he.
Oh there's none so rare as can compare
With King Cole and his fiddlers three.

Old King Cole was a slimy little toad
And a warty little oik was he,
His teeth were green and he never had a bath,
And his clothes all smelled of wee.
Every fiddler was a rotten little fiddler
And a rotten little fiddler was he.
Oh, do all that you can to avoid this little man
King Cole and his fiddlers three.

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