 | Bog-land Studies |  |
77
II
Barney, he'd always the luck from the time we
were on'y gossoons.
Look at our Band now: I always was terrible fond o' the tunes,
Yet if ever I thried at a note, it's each finger I had seemed a thumb,
While Barney, just git me the lad that 'ud bate him at batin' the dhrum,
Th' ould sargint, who'd soldiered in Agypt an' Injy, he swore be his sowl
There wasn't the rigimint marchin' but he'd aquil it rowlin' the rowl.
Look at our Band now: I always was terrible fond o' the tunes,
Yet if ever I thried at a note, it's each finger I had seemed a thumb,
While Barney, just git me the lad that 'ud bate him at batin' the dhrum,
Th' ould sargint, who'd soldiered in Agypt an' Injy, he swore be his sowl
There wasn't the rigimint marchin' but he'd aquil it rowlin' the rowl.
Och! it's thim was the great times entirely for
Barney, an' me, an' the boys,
An' we kep' the neighbours alive wid the capers we had an' the noise,
For there'd scarce be a moonshiny night but we'd
thramp as far afther our Band
As afther the plough in the field whin ye're trenchin' an acre o' land.
Bangin' away, wid the bits o' spalpeens all throt- throttin' beside,
An' wishin' their legs were the lenth to keep step, an' the doors flyin' wide
Wid the girls lookin' out; an' the moonbeams so still on the fields till we come,
Ye might think all the sounds in the earth had run into each boom of our dhrum.
An' we kep' the neighbours alive wid the capers we had an' the noise,
78
As afther the plough in the field whin ye're trenchin' an acre o' land.
Bangin' away, wid the bits o' spalpeens all throt- throttin' beside,
An' wishin' their legs were the lenth to keep step, an' the doors flyin' wide
Wid the girls lookin' out; an' the moonbeams so still on the fields till we come,
Ye might think all the sounds in the earth had run into each boom of our dhrum.
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