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The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore

Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes
  

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[Extract from the “County Gazette.”]
  
  
  
  
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[Extract from the “County Gazette.”]

This place is getting gay and full again.
[OMITTED]
Last week was married, “in the Lord,”
The Reverend Mortimer O'Mulligan,
Preacher, in Irish, of the Word,
(He, who the Lord's force lately led on—
Exeter Hall his Armagh-geddon,)

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To Miss B. Fudge of Pisgah Place,
One of the chos'n, as “heir of grace,”
And likewise heiress of Phil. Fudge,
Esquire, defunct, of Orange Lodge.
Same evening, Miss F. Fudge, 'tis hinted—
Niece of the above, (whose “Sylvan Lyre,”
In our Gazette, last week, we printed,)
Elop'd with Pat. Magan, Esquire.
The fugitives were track'd, some time,
After they'd left the Aunt's abode,
By scraps of paper, scrawl'd with rhyme,
Found strew'd along the Western road;—
Some of them, ci-devant curl-papers,
Others, half burnt in lighting tapers.
This clue, however, to their flight,
After some miles was seen no more;
And, from inquiries made last night,
We find they've reach'd the Irish shore.
 

The rectory which the Rev. gentleman holds is situated in the county of Armagh!—a most remarkable coincidence— and well worthy of the attention of certain expounders of the Apocalypse.