 | Crazy Jane |  |
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CRAZY JANE.
Why, fair maid in every feature,
Are such signs of fear expressed,
Can a wand'ring wretched creature,
With such terror fill thy breast?
Do my frenzied looks alarm thee,
Trust me sweet, thy fears are vain,
Not for kingdoms would I harm thee,
Shun not then poor Crazy Jane.
Are such signs of fear expressed,
Can a wand'ring wretched creature,
With such terror fill thy breast?
Do my frenzied looks alarm thee,
Trust me sweet, thy fears are vain,
Not for kingdoms would I harm thee,
Shun not then poor Crazy Jane.
Dost thou weep to see my anguish,
Mark me, and avoid my woe.
When men flatter, sigh and languish,
Think them false, I found them so,
For I loved—ah, so sincerely,
None could ever love again,
But the youth I loved so dearly,
Stole the wits of Crazy Jane.
Mark me, and avoid my woe.
When men flatter, sigh and languish,
Think them false, I found them so,
For I loved—ah, so sincerely,
None could ever love again,
But the youth I loved so dearly,
Stole the wits of Crazy Jane.
Fondly my young heart received him,
Which was doomed to love but one.
He sigh'd, he vow'd; and I believed him,
He was false and I undone,
From that hour has reason never,
Held her empire o'er my brain,
Henry fled; with him for ever,
Fled the wits of Crazy Jane.
Which was doomed to love but one.
He sigh'd, he vow'd; and I believed him,
He was false and I undone,
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Held her empire o'er my brain,
Henry fled; with him for ever,
Fled the wits of Crazy Jane.
Now forlorn and broken hearted,
And with frenzied thoughts beset,
On that spot where last we parted,
On that spot where first we met,
Still I sing my love-lorn ditty,
Still I slowly pace the plain;
While each passer-by in pity,
Cries, God help thee, Crazy Jane.
And with frenzied thoughts beset,
On that spot where last we parted,
On that spot where first we met,
Still I sing my love-lorn ditty,
Still I slowly pace the plain;
While each passer-by in pity,
Cries, God help thee, Crazy Jane.
KATHLEEN THAIL.
This kingdom I rambled in different quarters,
In search of my darling, she is Katty by name,
She's beauteous, she's virtuous, she's civil, and she's charming,
She's modest my darling, and subject to fame,
In tears she has left me to travel this nation,
And fixed was my fortune in every sad station,
Still frowning and fretting with grief and vexation,
Dispairing of this beautiful dame.
In search of my darling, she is Katty by name,
She's beauteous, she's virtuous, she's civil, and she's charming,
She's modest my darling, and subject to fame,
In tears she has left me to travel this nation,
And fixed was my fortune in every sad station,
Still frowning and fretting with grief and vexation,
Dispairing of this beautiful dame.
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I set out from Dublin in the province of Leinster,
And posted on my journey towards Donaghadee,
My drums they re-rattled the people in Munster,
And flew like bellmen through the town of Ardee,
Through Newry that night I scampered away,
And next morning arrived at the bay,
Through sweet Carrick fergus of a hot sultry day,
But no tidings received of sweet Katty my dame.
And posted on my journey towards Donaghadee,
My drums they re-rattled the people in Munster,
And flew like bellmen through the town of Ardee,
Through Newry that night I scampered away,
And next morning arrived at the bay,
Through sweet Carrick fergus of a hot sultry day,
But no tidings received of sweet Katty my dame.
The banks of the Boyne I reached very nigh,
Where Joshua the Jacobines army did beat,
Deserting their monarch and army likewise,
And causing their trumpet to sound a retreat,
I embarked for the Liffey and swam it all over,
The rivers that trace the Suir, Barrow and Nore,
The rapid Blaek water that runs through Lismore,
But no tidings received from Katty my came.
Where Joshua the Jacobines army did beat,
Deserting their monarch and army likewise,
And causing their trumpet to sound a retreat,
I embarked for the Liffey and swam it all over,
The rivers that trace the Suir, Barrow and Nore,
The rapid Blaek water that runs through Lismore,
But no tidings received from Katty my came.
Through Belfast I rambled straightway to Kilkenny
Through Antrim, through Leitrim, through the caunty Wicklow,
In the county Westmeath I searched every city,
And passed on my journey to the county Mayo,
In Kells I broke open windows and doors,
In Callan got drunk among bullies and wives.
In Youghal took lodgings in the house of one M Ives,
But no tidings received from Katty my dame.
Through Antrim, through Leitrim, through the caunty Wicklow,
In the county Westmeath I searched every city,
And passed on my journey to the county Mayo,
In Kells I broke open windows and doors,
In Callan got drunk among bullies and wives.
In Youghal took lodgings in the house of one M Ives,
But no tidings received from Katty my dame.
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Lough Carrick, Lough Briggan, Lough Erin, Lough Meath,
Lough Darrig, Enniskillen, Loughren, Loagh Foyle,
The white bog of Allen, and the house of Dick Doyle,
But Loughlaue received me to my own native soil,
The Magourney mountains I crossed to Killarney,
The root I weathered on the mountains of Carbery,
Through Cork, Kinsale, and Bandon, from that up to Baniry,
A town well known for traffic and fame,
But no tidings received from Katty my dame
Lough Darrig, Enniskillen, Loughren, Loagh Foyle,
The white bog of Allen, and the house of Dick Doyle,
But Loughlaue received me to my own native soil,
The Magourney mountains I crossed to Killarney,
The root I weathered on the mountains of Carbery,
Through Cork, Kinsale, and Bandon, from that up to Baniry,
A town well known for traffic and fame,
But no tidings received from Katty my dame
THE IRISHMAN.
The savage loves his native shore,
Though rude the soil and chill the air,
Then well may Erin's sons adore
An isle which nature formed so fair;
What flood reflects a shore so sweet
As Shannon great or pastoral Bann?
Or who a friend or foe can meet
So generous as an Irishman,
Though rude the soil and chill the air,
Then well may Erin's sons adore
An isle which nature formed so fair;
What flood reflects a shore so sweet
As Shannon great or pastoral Bann?
Or who a friend or foe can meet
So generous as an Irishman,
His hand is rash, his hand is warm,
But principle is still his guide,
None more repents a deed of harm.
And none forgives with nobler pride;
He may be duped but wont be dared,
More fit to practise than to plan;
He dearly earns his poor reward,
And spends it like an Irishman.
But principle is still his guide,
None more repents a deed of harm.
And none forgives with nobler pride;
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More fit to practise than to plan;
He dearly earns his poor reward,
And spends it like an Irishman.
If strange and poor, for you he'll pay,
Or guide to where you safe may be,
If yeu're his comrade, while you stay,
His cottage holds a jubilee.
Hic inmost soul he will unlock,
And if he may your merit scan.
Your confidence he scorns to mock,
For faithful is an Irishman.
Or guide to where you safe may be,
If yeu're his comrade, while you stay,
His cottage holds a jubilee.
Hic inmost soul he will unlock,
And if he may your merit scan.
Your confidence he scorns to mock,
For faithful is an Irishman.
By honour bound in woe or weal
Whate'er she bids he dares to do,
Try him with bribe—it won't prevail,
Prove him in fire—you'll find him true;
He seeks not safety, be his post
Where'er it may, in danger's van,
And if the field of fame be lost,
It won't be by an Irishman.
Whate'er she bids he dares to do,
Try him with bribe—it won't prevail,
Prove him in fire—you'll find him true;
He seeks not safety, be his post
Where'er it may, in danger's van,
And if the field of fame be lost,
It won't be by an Irishman.
Erin! loved land! from age to age,
Be thou, more great, more famed, more free
May peace be thine, or should ye wage
Defensive war—cheap victory;
May plenty bloom in every field,
Which gentle breezes softly fan,
And cheerful smiles serenely gild
The breast of every Irishman.
Be thou, more great, more famed, more free
May peace be thine, or should ye wage
Defensive war—cheap victory;
May plenty bloom in every field,
Which gentle breezes softly fan,
And cheerful smiles serenely gild
The breast of every Irishman.
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THE WEDDING OF PADDY O'CARROLL.
In eighteen hundred and sixteen in sweet July we leave the scene,
There was a wedding held one day near to a place called George's-quay;
A mountaineer as I do protest there did assemble many a guest.
Now I most solemnly declarr I'll tell you all that I saw there.
There was a wedding held one day near to a place called George's-quay;
A mountaineer as I do protest there did assemble many a guest.
Now I most solemnly declarr I'll tell you all that I saw there.
Of rebels came down from Tramore about seven and twenty score,
Of rich and poor, old and young, lame and blind deaf and dumb;
There were tinkers, barbers, brewers, bakers,
Carpenters, likewise broguemakers.
Of rich and poor, old and young, lame and blind deaf and dumb;
There were tinkers, barbers, brewers, bakers,
Carpenters, likewise broguemakers.
Fifty set of sparrible weavers, gunsmiths, blacksmiths and nailors,
Bogtrotters and street pavers, bobbin-tossers,
Millers' doctors. key-hole whistlers and tithe proctors.
Painters, glaziers, backlers, cutlers, coachmen, footmen, cooks and bntlers.
Bogtrotters and street pavers, bobbin-tossers,
Millers' doctors. key-hole whistlers and tithe proctors.
Painters, glaziers, backlers, cutlers, coachmen, footmen, cooks and bntlers.
Besides to this a sample came a multitude I cannot name,
With harps, fifes and fiddles too they were all a jovial crew.
They all got seated round about to dishes of caulcannon stont.
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They all got seated round about to dishes of caulcannon stont.
Melier they would at their will they'd sour butter milk to drink their fill,
That would take off without a lie the pearl of a piper's eye.
Delicious smoothers next came in on large platters made of tin.
That would take off without a lie the pearl of a piper's eye.
Delicious smoothers next came in on large platters made of tin.
There was lobsters, oysters and cow-heels, musoles cockles and fat eels,
There was sheep's trotters, half-boiled tripes, grains and pleavers, larks and snipe.
And to this wedding did return a hungry tailor this did mourn,
This greedy tailor is hungry still, curse on his gut, give him his fill.
There was sheep's trotters, half-boiled tripes, grains and pleavers, larks and snipe.
And to this wedding did return a hungry tailor this did mourn,
This greedy tailor is hungry still, curse on his gut, give him his fill.
The cook bronght out a dish of keale, mixed with oil and barley meal.
With sallad, sarlet, liquorice stick, salary, onions and garlick,
With earrots, parsnips and chie, the scrapings of an old bee-hive,
Mixed with blackberries and allspice, hog's lard, and the brains of mice,
With sallad, sarlet, liquorice stick, salary, onions and garlick,
With earrots, parsnips and chie, the scrapings of an old bee-hive,
Mixed with blackberries and allspice, hog's lard, and the brains of mice,
| Crazy Jane | |