"Slattery's mounted foot." (U14.1450)

The song 'Slattery's Mounted Fut' by Percy French (1854 - 1920) celebrates drinking and staying alive. It starts:
'You've heard o' Julius Ceasar, and the great Napolean, too,
An' how the Cork Militia beat the Turks at Waterloo;
But there's a page of glory that, as yet, remains uncut,
An' that's the Martial story o' the Shlathery's Mounted Fut.'
"Where's that bleeding awfur? Parson Steve, apostates' creed! No, no, Mulligan! Abaft there! Shove ahead. Keep a watch on the clock. Chuckingout time. Mullee! What's on you?" (U14.1451)
"Ma mère m'a mariée. British Beatitudes! Ratamplan Digidi Boum Boum. Ayes have it." (U14.1453)
"To be printed and bound at the Druiddrum press by two designing females. Calf covers of pissedon green. Last word in art shades. Most beautiful book come out of Ireland my time. Silentium! Get a spurt on." (U14.1454)
"Tention. Proceed to nearest canteen and there annex liquor stores. March! Tramp, tramp, tramp the boys are (atitudes!) parching. Beer, beef, business, bibles, bulldogs, battleships, buggery and bishops. Whether on the scaffold high. Beerbeef trample the bibles. When for Irelandear. Trample the trampellers. Thunderation! " (U14.1457)
"Keep the durned millingtary step. We fall. Bishops boosebox. Halt! Heave to. Rugger. Scrum in. No touch kicking. Wow, my tootsies! You hurt? Most amazingly sorry!" (U14.1462)
"Query. Who's astanding this here do? Proud possessor of damnall. Declare misery. Bet to the ropes. Me nantee saltee. Not a red at me this week gone." (U14.1465)
"Yours? Mead of our fathers for the Übermensch. Dittoh. Five number ones. You, sir? Ginger cordial. Chase me, the cabby's caudle. Stimulate the caloric. Winding of his ticker. Stopped short never to go again when the old." (U14.1467)
"Absinthe for me, savvy?" (U14.1470)
"Caramba! Have an eggnog or a prairie oyster. Enemy? Avuncular's got my timepiece. Ten to. Obligated awful. Don't mention it. Got a pectoral trauma, eh, Dix? Pos fact." (U14.1470)
"Got bet be a boomblebee whenever he wus settin sleepin in hes bit garten. Digs up near the Mater. Buckled he is. Know his dona? Yup, sartin I do. Full of a dure." (U14.1472)
"See her in her dishybilly. Peels off a credit. Lovey lovekin. None of your lean kine, not much." (U14.1475)
"Pull down the blind, love." ([U14.1476])


This is a song from the 1870s.
I got the words from the book:
Good Old-Time Songs No. 3 Containing a Choice Collection of 173 Songs
Published by Wehman Bros, New York, 1914.
Oh well!
"Two Ardilauns. Same here. Look slippery. If you fall don't wait to get up. Five, seven, nine. Fine! Got a prime pair of mincepies, no kid. And her take me to rests and her anker of rum. Must be seen to be believed. Your starving eyes and allbeplastered neck you stole my heart," (U14.1476)
"Sir? Spud again the rheumatiz? All poppycock, you'll scuse me saying. For the hoi polloi. I vear thee beest a gert vool. Well, doc? Back fro Lapland? Your corporosity sagaciating OK?" (U14.1480)
"O gluepot." (U14.1480)
Oxen of the Sun Pages: