 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
THE LIMERICK LASSES
At every pleasant party,
Whoe'er the host, he gave a toast,
When we were young and hearty,
That ever pleased us lads the most.
'Twas—“Friends, fill up your glasses
Until they brim and bubble o'er,
Here's to our Limerick lasses!
Of Womanhood the cream and core.”
Whoe'er the host, he gave a toast,
When we were young and hearty,
That ever pleased us lads the most.
'Twas—“Friends, fill up your glasses
Until they brim and bubble o'er,
Here's to our Limerick lasses!
Of Womanhood the cream and core.”
Ere long we heard from Mar's field
The mighty battle trumpet blown.
And off with gallant Sarsfield
“Wild Geese” we all to France were flown—
Attacked and then attacking,
The one brigade no foe could break,
And ever bivouacking
On fresh fields won for Ireland's sake,
With “Comrades, charge your glasses
Until they brim and bubble o'er;
Here's our own Limerick lasses!
Of Womankind the cream and core.”
The mighty battle trumpet blown.
And off with gallant Sarsfield
“Wild Geese” we all to France were flown—
Attacked and then attacking,
The one brigade no foe could break,
And ever bivouacking
On fresh fields won for Ireland's sake,
With “Comrades, charge your glasses
Until they brim and bubble o'er;
Here's our own Limerick lasses!
Of Womankind the cream and core.”
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And now we're back from glory,
Huzzaing into Limerick town—
Each soldier tells his story
And with his sweetheart settles down;
For all the sighs and glances
Of donna or of demoiselle
Ne'er fooled away our fancies
From those we've loved so long and well.
Then, boys, fill up your glasses
Until they're brimming o'er and o'er,
Here's to our Limerick lasses!
With three times three and one cheer more.
Huzzaing into Limerick town—
Each soldier tells his story
And with his sweetheart settles down;
For all the sighs and glances
Of donna or of demoiselle
Ne'er fooled away our fancies
From those we've loved so long and well.
Then, boys, fill up your glasses
Until they're brimming o'er and o'er,
Here's to our Limerick lasses!
With three times three and one cheer more.
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |