Poems, on sacred and other subjects and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs |
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BARNY BLAKE'S MISFORTUNE. |
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 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
BARNY BLAKE'S MISFORTUNE.
Och, boys! my name is Barny Blake,
I come from Londonderry town,
Great care my folk did of me take,
And let me ramble up and down:
Till I had grown a clever boy,
I roved about both night and day;
But when I first saw Molly Roy,
Och, dear! she stole my heart away.
Smiling, wiling, quite beguiling,
Sweet as honey then she spake;
Her rosy cheeks and sloe-black eyes
O'ercame the heart of Barny Blake.
I come from Londonderry town,
Great care my folk did of me take,
And let me ramble up and down:
Till I had grown a clever boy,
I roved about both night and day;
But when I first saw Molly Roy,
Och, dear! she stole my heart away.
Smiling, wiling, quite beguiling,
Sweet as honey then she spake;
Her rosy cheeks and sloe-black eyes
O'ercame the heart of Barny Blake.
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My learning's of the Irish kind,
That's not to read, and count, and write:
Such things did never suit my mind,
So I learn'd to drink, and dance, and fight.
But Molly said—Och, Barny, boy!
You've always been a roving blade;
You ne'er can marry Molly Roy
Till you can keep her by your trade.
Brisk and jolly, lovely Molly,
That I'll do all for thy sake;
I'll list into the Carabineers,
If you'll but marry Barny Blake.
That's not to read, and count, and write:
Such things did never suit my mind,
So I learn'd to drink, and dance, and fight.
But Molly said—Och, Barny, boy!
You've always been a roving blade;
You ne'er can marry Molly Roy
Till you can keep her by your trade.
Brisk and jolly, lovely Molly,
That I'll do all for thy sake;
I'll list into the Carabineers,
If you'll but marry Barny Blake.
So off to Sergeant Grub went I,
Who paid me twenty guineas down;
With drink that night, and Molly Roy,
All care and sorrow I did drown.
Well, on we boused, both night and day,
And thus my bounty did destroy;
Och! when my cash was all away—
Off with a Tar fled Molly Roy!
Coaxing, hoaxing, leering, jeering
Girl, she made quite a rake;
And, after all this mischief done,
Adieu! said she, sweet Barny Blake!
Who paid me twenty guineas down;
With drink that night, and Molly Roy,
All care and sorrow I did drown.
Well, on we boused, both night and day,
And thus my bounty did destroy;
Och! when my cash was all away—
Off with a Tar fled Molly Roy!
Coaxing, hoaxing, leering, jeering
Girl, she made quite a rake;
And, after all this mischief done,
Adieu! said she, sweet Barny Blake!
Whene'er I knew that Moll had tripp'd
I did not tarry long behind,
For off that very night I slipp'd,
Through darkness, mire, through rain and wind:
But, och! a party follow'd fast,
And quickly did me overtake;
So then, I blubber'd out at last—
Farewell to freedom, Barny Blake!
No more with roaring, drinking, sploring,
Shall I spend a merry night,
For Molly's given me such a slip
That all my pleasure's ended quite.
I did not tarry long behind,
For off that very night I slipp'd,
Through darkness, mire, through rain and wind:
But, och! a party follow'd fast,
And quickly did me overtake;
So then, I blubber'd out at last—
Farewell to freedom, Barny Blake!
No more with roaring, drinking, sploring,
Shall I spend a merry night,
For Molly's given me such a slip
That all my pleasure's ended quite.
A great court-martial they did hold,
And to three hundred sentenced me;
Though loudly I for mercy bawl'd,
The deuce a one did set me free:
But to the halberts fast me bound,
And all my darling back they tore;
I now invet'rate foes them found,
Whom I did take for friends before.
Moaning, sighing, groaning, crying—
Satisfaction they did take;
For not a soul among them all
Did pity show to Barny Blake.
And to three hundred sentenced me;
Though loudly I for mercy bawl'd,
The deuce a one did set me free:
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And all my darling back they tore;
I now invet'rate foes them found,
Whom I did take for friends before.
Moaning, sighing, groaning, crying—
Satisfaction they did take;
For not a soul among them all
Did pity show to Barny Blake.
Long in the hospital I lay,
Reflecting on my follies past,
For many a dull and sorry day;
But—now I'm well again at last—
I swear by sweet Killarney's lake,
By Belfast bridge, St. Patrick, too,
No wench shall cully Barny Blake,
But to his standard he'll be true:
And while I'm roaring, drinking, sploring,
Duty still I'll mind to do,
And never flinch to face the French,
Though on the field of Waterloo.
Reflecting on my follies past,
For many a dull and sorry day;
But—now I'm well again at last—
I swear by sweet Killarney's lake,
By Belfast bridge, St. Patrick, too,
No wench shall cully Barny Blake,
But to his standard he'll be true:
And while I'm roaring, drinking, sploring,
Duty still I'll mind to do,
And never flinch to face the French,
Though on the field of Waterloo.
| Poems, on sacred and other subjects | |