Rosin the Bow

A song about the carefree life of a fiddler, 1838.
author unknown, a traditional Irish folk melody
arranged by J.C. Beckell
published by Osbourn’s Music Saloon

Many Irish youths used to go roving for a few years. There is a comic American version called “Rosin the Beau.” The tune was borrowed for the song “Acres of Clams” about farming in Puget Sound, Washington state.

---

The sheet music:

---

Accompaniment:

---

Lyrics

1. I’ve always been cheerful and easy
   And scarce have I heeded a foe
   While some after money run crazy
   I merrily rosined the bow

I merrily rosined the bow
I merrily rosined the bow
While some after money run crazy
I merrily rosined the bow

2. Some youngsters were panting for fashions
   Some new kick seemed now all the go
   But having no turbulent passions
   My motto was “rosin the bow”

My motto was “rosin the bow”
My motto was “rosin the bow”
But having no turbulent passions
My motto was “rosin the bow”

3. So kindly my parents besought me
   No longer a-roving to go
   And friends whom I thought had forgot me
   With gladness met Rosin the Bow

With gladness met Rosin the Bow
With gladness met Rosin the Bow
And friends whom I thought had forgot me
With gladness met Rosin the Bow

4. My young days I spent all in roving
   But never was vicious, no, no
   But somehow I loved to keep moving
   And cheerfully rosined the bow

And cheerfully rosined the bow
And cheerfully rosined the bow
But somehow I loved to keep moving
And cheerfully rosined the bow

5. In country or city, no matter
   Too often I never could go
   My presence all sadness would scatter
   So cheerful was Rosin the bow

So cheerful was Rosin the bow
So cheerful was Rosin the bow
My presence all sadness would scatter
So cheerful was Rosin the bow

6. The old people always grew merry
   Young faces with pleasure did glow
   While lips with the red of cherry
   Sipped “bliss to old Rosin the Bow”

Sipped “bliss to old Rosin the Bow”
Sipped “bliss to old Rosin the Bow”
While lips with the red of cherry
Sipped “bliss to old Rosin the Bow”

7. While sweetly I played on my viol
   In measures so soft and so slow
   Old Time stopped the shade on the dial
   To listen to Rosin the Bow

To listen to Rosin the Bow
To listen to Rosin the Bow
Old Time stopped the shade on the dial
To listen to Rosin the Bow

8. And though my sweet prime I’ve been spending
   When friendship made glasses ere now
   No pang of remorse is now rending
   The bosom of Rosin the Bow

The bosom of Rosin the Bow
The bosom of Rosin the Bow
No pang of remorse is now rending
The bosom of Rosin the Bow

---

Sung here by Fred Feild: