Rosin The Bow - Matt McGinn, Allan Taylor, Brian Golbey

I’ve traveled all over this world, and now to the next one I go.

Where I know pleasant quarters are

waiting to welcome old Rosin the Bow.

To welcome old Rosin the Bow.

To welcome old Rosin the Bow.

I know pleasant quarters are waiting to welcome old Rosin the Bow.

When I’m dead and laid out on the

counter, a voice you will hear from below.

Crying out, «Whiskey and water, for a last drink to Rosin the Bow.»

For a last drink to Rosin the Bow.

A last drink to Rosin the Bow.

Crying out, «Whiskey and water, for a last drink to Rosin the Bow.»

You must get some dozen stout

fellows, and stand them all round in a row.

Let them drink out of half gallon

bottles to the memory of Rosin the Bow.

To the memory of Rosin the Bow.

To the memory of Rosin the Bow.

Let them drink out of half gallon

bottles to the memory of Rosin the Bow.

You must take the dozen stout

fellows, and let them all stagger and go.

Let them dig a great hole in the

meadow, and in it throw Rosin the Bow.

And in it throw Rosin the Bow.

And in it throw Rosin the Bow.

Let them dig a great hole in the

meadow, and in it throw Rosin the Bow.

Then get you a couple of tombstones, place one at my head and my toe.

And do not fail to scratch on it, the name of old Rosin the Bow.

The name of old Rosin the Bow.

The name of old Rosin the Bow.

And do not fail to scratch on it, the name of old Rosin the Bow.

I fear the grim tyrant approaching, that cruel implacable foe.

Who cares not for age nor condition, not even old Rosin the Bow.

Not even old Rosin the Bow.

Not even old Rosin the Bow.

Who cares not for age nor condition, not even old Rosin the Bow.