YOUNG ROUSSELLE A FRENCH SONG OF THE OLDEN TIME

Young Rousselle has three houses got, Never a roof to all the lot,— For swallows' nests they will serve quite well— What do you think of Young Rousselle? Ah! ah! ah! truth to tell, A jolly good chap is Young Rousselle. Young Rousselle, he has three top-coats; Two are of cloth as yellow as oats; The third, which is made of paper brown, He wears if it freezes or rain comes down. Ah! ah! ah! truth to tell, A jolly good chap is Young Rousselle. Young Rousselle, he has three old hats; Two are as round as butter-pats; The third has two little horns, 'tis said, Because it has taken the shape of his head. Ah! ah! ah! truth to tell, A jolly good chap is Young Rousselle. Young Rousselle, he has three fine eyes; Each is quite of a different size; One looks east and one looks west, The third, his eye-glass, is much the best. Ah! ah! ah! truth to tell, A jolly good chap is Young Rousselle. Young Rousselle, he has three black shoes Two on his feet he likes to use; The third has neither sole nor side: That will do when he weds his bride. Ah! ah! ah! truth to tell, A jolly good chap is Young Rousselle. Young Rousselle three hairs can find: Two in front and one behind; And, when he goes to see his girl, He puts all three of them in curl. Ah! ah! ah! truth to tell, A jolly good chap is Young Rousselle. Young Rousselle, three boys he has got: Two are nothing but trick and plot; The third can cheat and swindle well,— He greatly resembles Young Rousselle. Ah! ah! ah! truth to tell, A jolly good chap is Young Rousselle. Young Rousselle, he has three good tykes; One hunts rabbits just as he likes, One chivies hares,—and, as for the third, He bolts whenever his name is heard. Ah! ah! ah! truth to tell, A jolly good chap is Young Rousselle. Young Rousselle, he has three big cats, Who never attempt to catch the rats; The third is blind, and without a light He goes to the granary every night. Ah! ah! ah! truth to tell, A jolly good chap is Young Rousselle. Young Rousselle, he has daughters three, Married as well as you'd wish to see; Two, one could scarcely beauties call, And the third, she has just no brains at all. Ah! ah! ah! truth to tell, A jolly good chap is Young Rousselle. Young Rousselle, he has farthings three,— To pay his creditors these must be; And, when he has shown these riches vast, He puts them back in his purse at last. Ah! ah! ah! truth to tell, A jolly good chap is Young Rousselle. Young Rousselle, he will run his rig A long while yet ere he hops the twig, For, so they say, he must learn to spell To write his own epitaph,—Young Rousselle! Ah! ah! ah! truth to tell, A jolly good chap is Young Rousselle.