 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
1
COUNTRYSIDE SONGS
3
COUNTRYSIDE CHARACTERS
FATHER O'FLYNN
Of priests we can offer a charmin' variety,
Far renowned for larnin' and piety;
Still, I'd advance you, widout impropriety,
Father O'Flynn as the flower of them all.
Far renowned for larnin' and piety;
Still, I'd advance you, widout impropriety,
Father O'Flynn as the flower of them all.
Chorus
Here's a health to you, Father O'Flynn,Slainté, and slainté, and slainté agin;
Powerfullest preacher, and
Tinderest teacher, and
Kindliest creature in ould Donegal.
Don't talk of your Provost and Fellows of Trinity,
Famous for ever at Greek and Latinity,
Dad and the divels and all at Divinity,
Father O'Flynn 'd make hares of them all.
Come, I vinture to give you my word,
Never the likes of his logic was heard,
Down from Mythology
Into Thayology,
Troth! and Conchology, if he'd the call.
Famous for ever at Greek and Latinity,
Dad and the divels and all at Divinity,
Father O'Flynn 'd make hares of them all.
Come, I vinture to give you my word,
Never the likes of his logic was heard,
Down from Mythology
Into Thayology,
Troth! and Conchology, if he'd the call.
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Chorus
Here's a health to you, Father O'Flynn,Slainté and slainté, and slainté agin;
Powerfullest preacher, and
Tinderest teacher, and
Kindliest creature in ould Donegal.
Och! Father O'Flynn, you've the wonderful way wid you,
All the ould sinners are wishful to pray wid you,
All the young childer are wild for to play wid you,
You've such a way wid you, Father avick!
Still, for all you've so gentle a soul,
Gad, you've your flock in the grandest conthroul;
Checking the crazy ones,
Coaxin' onaisy ones,
Liftin' the lazy ones on wid the stick.
All the ould sinners are wishful to pray wid you,
All the young childer are wild for to play wid you,
You've such a way wid you, Father avick!
Still, for all you've so gentle a soul,
Gad, you've your flock in the grandest conthroul;
Checking the crazy ones,
Coaxin' onaisy ones,
Liftin' the lazy ones on wid the stick.
Chorus
Here's a health to you, Father O'Flynn,Slainté, and slainté, and slainté agin;
Powerfullest preacher, and
Tinderest teacher, and
Kindliest creature in ould Donegal.
And though quite avoidin' all foolish frivolity,
Still at all seasons of innocent jollity,
Where was the play-boy could claim an equality
At comicality Father, wid you?
Once the Bishop looked grave at your jest,
Till this remark set him off wid the rest:
“Is it lave gaiety
All to the laity?
Cannot the clargy be Irishmen too?”
Still at all seasons of innocent jollity,
Where was the play-boy could claim an equality
At comicality Father, wid you?
5
Till this remark set him off wid the rest:
“Is it lave gaiety
All to the laity?
Cannot the clargy be Irishmen too?”
Chorus
Here's a health to you, Father O'Flynn,Slainté, and slainté, and slainté agin;
Powerfullest preacher, and
Tinderest teacher, and
Kindliest creature in ould Donegal.
O'FARRELL, THE FIDDLER
Now, thin, what has become
Of Thady O'Farrell?
The honest poor man,
What's delayin' him, why?
O, the thrush should be dumb,
And the lark cease to carol,
Whin his music began
To comether the sky.
Of Thady O'Farrell?
The honest poor man,
What's delayin' him, why?
O, the thrush should be dumb,
And the lark cease to carol,
Whin his music began
To comether the sky.
Three summers have gone
Since we've missed you, O'Farrell
From the weddin' and patron
And fair on the green.
In an hour to St. John
We'll light up the tar-barrel,
But ourselves we're not flatter'n'
That thin you'll be seen.
Since we've missed you, O'Farrell
From the weddin' and patron
And fair on the green.
6
We'll light up the tar-barrel,
But ourselves we're not flatter'n'
That thin you'll be seen.
O, Thady, we've watched
And we've waited for ever
To see your ould self
Steppin' into the town—
Wid your corduroys patched
So clane and so clever,
And the pride of a Guelph
In your smile or your frown—
And we've waited for ever
To see your ould self
Steppin' into the town—
Wid your corduroys patched
So clane and so clever,
And the pride of a Guelph
In your smile or your frown—
Till some one used say,
“Here's Thady O'Farrell;”
And “God bless the good man!
Let's go meet him,” we cried;
And wid this from their play,
And wid that from their quarrel,
All the little ones ran
To be first at your side.
“Here's Thady O'Farrell;”
And “God bless the good man!
Let's go meet him,” we cried;
And wid this from their play,
And wid that from their quarrel,
All the little ones ran
To be first at your side.
Soon amongst us you'd stand,
Wid the ould people's blessin',
As they leant from the door
To look out at you pass;
Wid the colleen's kiss-hand,
And the childer's caressin',
And the boys fightin', sure,
Which'd stand your first glass.
Wid the ould people's blessin',
As they leant from the door
To look out at you pass;
Wid the colleen's kiss-hand,
And the childer's caressin',
And the boys fightin', sure,
Which'd stand your first glass.
7
Thin you'd give us the news
Out of Cork and Killarney—
Had O'Shea married yet?—
Was ould Mack still at work?—
Shine's political views—
Barry's last bit of blarney—
And the boys you had met
On their way to New York.
Out of Cork and Killarney—
Had O'Shea married yet?—
Was ould Mack still at work?—
Shine's political views—
Barry's last bit of blarney—
And the boys you had met
On their way to New York.
And whin, from the sight
Of our say-frontin' village,
The far frownin' Blasquet
Stole into the shade,
And the warnin' of night
Called up from the tillage
The girl wid her basket,
The boy wid his spade—
Of our say-frontin' village,
The far frownin' Blasquet
Stole into the shade,
And the warnin' of night
Called up from the tillage
The girl wid her basket,
The boy wid his spade—
By the glowin' turf-fire,
Or the harvest moon's glory,
In the close-crowded ring
That around you we made,
We'd no other desire
Than your heart-thrillin' story,
Or the song that you'd sing,
Or the tune that you played.
Or the harvest moon's glory,
In the close-crowded ring
That around you we made,
We'd no other desire
Than your heart-thrillin' story,
Or the song that you'd sing,
Or the tune that you played.
Till you'd ax, wid a leap
From your seat in the middle,
And a shuffle and slide
Of your foot on the floor,
“Will we try a jig-step,
Boys and girls, to the fiddle?”
“Faugh a ballagh,” we cried,
“For a jig to be sure.”
From your seat in the middle,
And a shuffle and slide
Of your foot on the floor,
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Boys and girls, to the fiddle?”
“Faugh a ballagh,” we cried,
“For a jig to be sure.”
For whinever you'd start
Jig or planxty so merry,
Wid their caperin' twirls
And their rollickin' runs,
Where's the heel or the heart
In the Kingdom of Kerry
Of the boys and the girls
Wasn't wid you at once?
Jig or planxty so merry,
Wid their caperin' twirls
And their rollickin' runs,
Where's the heel or the heart
In the Kingdom of Kerry
Of the boys and the girls
Wasn't wid you at once?
So you'd tune wid a sound
That arose as delightin'
As our own colleen's voice,
So sweet and so clear,
As she coyly wint round,
Wid a curtsey invitin'
The best of the boys
For the fun to prepare.
That arose as delightin'
As our own colleen's voice,
So sweet and so clear,
As she coyly wint round,
Wid a curtsey invitin'
The best of the boys
For the fun to prepare.
For a minute or so,
Till the couples were ready,
On your shoulder and chin
The fiddle lay quiet;
Then down came your bow
So quick and so steady,
And away we should spin
To the left or the right!
Till the couples were ready,
On your shoulder and chin
The fiddle lay quiet;
Then down came your bow
So quick and so steady,
And away we should spin
To the left or the right!
9
Thin how Micky Dease
Forged steps was a wonder,
And well might our women
Of Roseen be proud—
Such a face, such a grace,
And her darlin' feet under,
Like two swallows skimmin'
The skirts of a cloud.
Forged steps was a wonder,
And well might our women
Of Roseen be proud—
Such a face, such a grace,
And her darlin' feet under,
Like two swallows skimmin'
The skirts of a cloud.
Thin, Thady, ochone!
Come back, for widout you
We are never as gay
As we were in the past!
O, Thady, mavrone,
Why, thin, I wouldn't doubt you
Huzzah! boys, huzzah!
Here's O'Farrell at last!
Come back, for widout you
We are never as gay
As we were in the past!
O, Thady, mavrone,
Why, thin, I wouldn't doubt you
Huzzah! boys, huzzah!
Here's O'Farrell at last!
BAT OF THE BRIDGE
On the Bridge of Dereen,
Away up by Killarney,
You'll be sure to be seein'
Poor Batsy O'Kearney,
A big stick in the air
So lazily swingin',
Smokin' and jokin'
And carelessly singin'
Some snatch of a song,
Out over the river,
As it rushes along
For iver and iver
To the Bay of Kenmare.
Away up by Killarney,
You'll be sure to be seein'
Poor Batsy O'Kearney,
A big stick in the air
So lazily swingin',
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And carelessly singin'
Some snatch of a song,
Out over the river,
As it rushes along
For iver and iver
To the Bay of Kenmare.
Six foot six
Is the fix
Of his height,
Honour bright!
Forty-eight the diminsion
Round his ribs by my inchin';
It's murther to say
Such a man's thrun away!
Is the fix
Of his height,
Honour bright!
Forty-eight the diminsion
Round his ribs by my inchin';
It's murther to say
Such a man's thrun away!
He's the last to delay
And the earliest comer
On the bridge by the bay,
Winter and summer.
Do you question why so?
What keeps him for iver
Smokin' and jokin'
And out on the river,
That rushes below,
Serenadin' so gaily?
'Twas the cowardly blow
Of a tinker's shillelagh
Left the proper man so.
And the earliest comer
On the bridge by the bay,
Winter and summer.
Do you question why so?
What keeps him for iver
Smokin' and jokin'
And out on the river,
That rushes below,
Serenadin' so gaily?
'Twas the cowardly blow
Of a tinker's shillelagh
Left the proper man so.
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But you're wonderin', why,
How at all it could happen
Such a broth of a boy
Got the scandalous rappin'.
'Twas September fair day,
And the Adragole faction
Wid Dereen for the green
And the bridge were in action;
And from off the bridge road,
Wid his cudgel so clever,
Bat was leatherin' a load
Of Cork men for ever,
Just as if it was play.
How at all it could happen
Such a broth of a boy
Got the scandalous rappin'.
'Twas September fair day,
And the Adragole faction
Wid Dereen for the green
And the bridge were in action;
And from off the bridge road,
Wid his cudgel so clever,
Bat was leatherin' a load
Of Cork men for ever,
Just as if it was play.
When up from beneath,
Still further and further,
Houldin' tight in his teeth
A stick that was murther,
That black tinker stole,
By the ivy boughs clingin',
On the edge of the bridge
The knees softly swingin';
And, unknownst at his back,
From the wall of the river
Fetched O'Kearney a crack
That left him for iver
Wid a poor, puzzled poll.
Still further and further,
Houldin' tight in his teeth
A stick that was murther,
That black tinker stole,
By the ivy boughs clingin',
On the edge of the bridge
The knees softly swingin';
And, unknownst at his back,
From the wall of the river
Fetched O'Kearney a crack
That left him for iver
Wid a poor, puzzled poll.
Did he fall? Not at all!
But he picked off that tinker
Like a snail from the wall
And before you could think or
Repate your own name,
Cot the stick from the ruffi'n,
Knocked him dead on the head,
And widout shroud or coffin
Tossed him into the tide.
And his black corpse for ever
From Ireland should glide,
For her good soil could never
Cover up such a shame.
But he picked off that tinker
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And before you could think or
Repate your own name,
Cot the stick from the ruffi'n,
Knocked him dead on the head,
And widout shroud or coffin
Tossed him into the tide.
And his black corpse for ever
From Ireland should glide,
For her good soil could never
Cover up such a shame.
Thin backward agin
Wid a bitter screech flyin'
On the Adragole men,
Just as they were cryin'
“The bridge is our own”—
In their thick, like a flail, he
Swung, till it sung,
The tinker's shillelagh;
So that staggerin' down,
Broken and batthered,
Out of the town
All Adragole scatthered
Before Batsy alone.
Wid a bitter screech flyin'
On the Adragole men,
Just as they were cryin'
“The bridge is our own”—
In their thick, like a flail, he
Swung, till it sung,
The tinker's shillelagh;
So that staggerin' down,
Broken and batthered,
Out of the town
All Adragole scatthered
Before Batsy alone.
Ever since which
Poor Bat's only iday
Is to sit on the bridge,
Wet day or dry day,
Wid that stick in his fist;
And no tinkerin' fellas
Dare to come there
Wid their pots and their bellas,
And all Adragole
Takes the ford down the river,
For fear that the fool
On the bridge end for iver
Should give them a twist.
Poor Bat's only iday
Is to sit on the bridge,
Wet day or dry day,
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And no tinkerin' fellas
Dare to come there
Wid their pots and their bellas,
And all Adragole
Takes the ford down the river,
For fear that the fool
On the bridge end for iver
Should give them a twist.
So he's come by a name,
The English of which, Sir,
Translatin' that same,
Is “Bat of the Bridge,” Sir.
But the hour's growin' late;
Good-night and safe journey!
It's afloat in your boat
You should be, Doctor Corney.
By myself, now, bad scran
To the tribe of the tinkers!
For they've left a good man,
Like a horse widout blinkers,
All bothered and bate.
The English of which, Sir,
Translatin' that same,
Is “Bat of the Bridge,” Sir.
But the hour's growin' late;
Good-night and safe journey!
It's afloat in your boat
You should be, Doctor Corney.
By myself, now, bad scran
To the tribe of the tinkers!
For they've left a good man,
Like a horse widout blinkers,
All bothered and bate.
Six foot six
Is the height
Of poor Batsy to-night,
Forty-eight the diminsion
Round his ribs by my inchin',
It's murther to say
Such a man's thrun away!
Is the height
Of poor Batsy to-night,
Forty-eight the diminsion
Round his ribs by my inchin',
It's murther to say
Such a man's thrun away!
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RODDY MOR, THE ROVER
Of all the roaming Jacks that yet to Farranfore kem over
As paramount I'd surely count ould Roddy Mor, the Rover;
Wid steeple hat and stiff cravat and nate nankeen knee breeches,
And on his back a pedlar's pack just rowlin' o'er wid riches.
As paramount I'd surely count ould Roddy Mor, the Rover;
Wid steeple hat and stiff cravat and nate nankeen knee breeches,
And on his back a pedlar's pack just rowlin' o'er wid riches.
For so it was when o'er the hill his coat-tails they'd come flyin',
The sharpest tongue of all was still, the crossest child quit cryin',
Ould women even left their tay, ould men their glass of toddy,
An', spoon in hand, a welcome grand would wave and wave to Roddy.
The sharpest tongue of all was still, the crossest child quit cryin',
Ould women even left their tay, ould men their glass of toddy,
An', spoon in hand, a welcome grand would wave and wave to Roddy.
An' when his treasure he'd unlade in view of all the village,
In from her milkin' ran the maid, the boy from out the tillage,
The while the rogue in each new vogue the lasses he'd go drapin',
Until their lads his ribbons, plaids and rings had no escapin'.
In from her milkin' ran the maid, the boy from out the tillage,
The while the rogue in each new vogue the lasses he'd go drapin',
Until their lads his ribbons, plaids and rings had no escapin'.
“Now, whisht your prate, and take your toys,” cried he, “my darlin' childer,
Or my new ballads wid your noise complately you'll bewilder.”
Then his Come-all-Yees he'd advance wid such a quare comether,
That you might say he tuk away our sinse and pince together.
Or my new ballads wid your noise complately you'll bewilder.”
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That you might say he tuk away our sinse and pince together.
But there! of all the roaming Jacks that trass the counthry over,
For paramount I'd ever count ould Roddy Mor, the Rover.
For 'deed an' I believe that when his sperrit parts his body,
If he's allowed, he'll draw a crowd in Heaven itself will Roddy.
For paramount I'd ever count ould Roddy Mor, the Rover.
For 'deed an' I believe that when his sperrit parts his body,
If he's allowed, he'll draw a crowd in Heaven itself will Roddy.
OULD DOCTOR MACK
Ye may tramp the world over from Delhi to Dover,
And sail the salt say from Archangel to Arragon;
Circumvint back through the whole Zodiack,
But to ould Docther Mack ye can't furnish a paragon.
Have ye the dropsy, the gout, the autopsy?
Fresh livers and limbs instantaneous he'll shape yez;
No way infarior in skill, but suparior
And lineal postarior to ould Aysculapius.
And sail the salt say from Archangel to Arragon;
Circumvint back through the whole Zodiack,
But to ould Docther Mack ye can't furnish a paragon.
Have ye the dropsy, the gout, the autopsy?
Fresh livers and limbs instantaneous he'll shape yez;
No way infarior in skill, but suparior
And lineal postarior to ould Aysculapius.
Chorus
He and his wig wid the curls so carroty,Aigle eye and complexion clarety;
Here's to his health,
Honour and wealth,
The king of his kind and the cream of all charity.
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How the rich and the poor, to consult for a cure,
Crowd on to his door in their carts and their carriages,
Showin' their tongues or unlacin' their lungs,
For divel wan symptom the docther disparages.
Troth an' he'll tumble for high or for humble
From his warm feather-bed wid no cross contrariety;
Makin' as light of nursin' all night
The beggar in rags as the belle of society.
Crowd on to his door in their carts and their carriages,
Showin' their tongues or unlacin' their lungs,
For divel wan symptom the docther disparages.
Troth an' he'll tumble for high or for humble
From his warm feather-bed wid no cross contrariety;
Makin' as light of nursin' all night
The beggar in rags as the belle of society.
Chorus
He and his wig wid the curls so carroty,Aigle eye and complexion clarety,
Here's to his health,
Honour and wealth,
The king of his kind and the cream of all charity.
And, as if by a meracle, ailments hysterical,
Dad, wid one dose of bread pills he can smother,
And quench the love sickness wid comical quickness,
Prescribin' the right boys and girls to each other.
And the sufferin' childer! Your eyes 'twould bewilder
To see the wee craythurs his coat tails unravellin'—
Each of them fast on some treasure at last,
Well knowin' ould Mack's just a toy-shop out travellin'.
Dad, wid one dose of bread pills he can smother,
And quench the love sickness wid comical quickness,
Prescribin' the right boys and girls to each other.
And the sufferin' childer! Your eyes 'twould bewilder
To see the wee craythurs his coat tails unravellin'—
Each of them fast on some treasure at last,
Well knowin' ould Mack's just a toy-shop out travellin'.
Chorus
He and his wig wid the curls so carroty,Aigle eye and complexion clarety;
Here's to his health,
Honour and wealth,
The king of his kind and the cream of all charity.
17
Thin, his doctherin' done, in a rollickin' run
Wid the rod or the gun he's the foremost to figure;
Be Jupiter Ammon! what jack-snipe or salmon
E'er rose to backgammon his tail-fly or trigger!
And hark that view holloa! 'Tis Mack in full follow
On black “Faugh-a-ballagh” the country-side sailin'!
Och, but you'd think 'twas ould Nimrod in pink,
Wid his spurs cryin' chink over park wall and palin'.
Wid the rod or the gun he's the foremost to figure;
Be Jupiter Ammon! what jack-snipe or salmon
E'er rose to backgammon his tail-fly or trigger!
And hark that view holloa! 'Tis Mack in full follow
On black “Faugh-a-ballagh” the country-side sailin'!
Och, but you'd think 'twas ould Nimrod in pink,
Wid his spurs cryin' chink over park wall and palin'.
Chorus
He and his wig wid the curls so carroty,Aigle eye and complexion clarety.
Here's to his health,
Honour and wealth,
Hip, hip, hooray, wid all hilarity!
Hip, hip, hooray! That's the way!
All at once widout disparity!
One more cheer for our docther dear,
The king of his kind and the cream of all charity
Hip, hip, hooray!
All at once widout disparity!
One more cheer for our docther dear,
The king of his kind and the cream of all charity
Hip, hip, hooray!
18
COUNTRYSIDE COLLEENS
THE ROSE OF KENMARE
I've been soft in a small way
On the girleens of Galway,
And the Limerick lasses have made me feel quare;
But there's no use denyin'
No girl I've set eye on
Could compate wid Rose Ryan of the town of Kenmare.
On the girleens of Galway,
And the Limerick lasses have made me feel quare;
But there's no use denyin'
No girl I've set eye on
Could compate wid Rose Ryan of the town of Kenmare.
O, where
Can her like be found?
Nowhere,
The country round,
Spins at her wheel
Daughter as true,
Sets in the reel,
Wid a slide of the shoe,
a slinderer,
tinderer,
purtier,
wittier colleen than you,
Rose, aroo!
Can her like be found?
Nowhere,
The country round,
Spins at her wheel
Daughter as true,
Sets in the reel,
Wid a slide of the shoe,
a slinderer,
tinderer,
purtier,
wittier colleen than you,
Rose, aroo!
19
Her hair mocks the sunshine,
And the soft, silver moonshine
Neck and arm of the colleen complately eclipse;
Whilst the nose of the jewel
Slants straight as Carn Tual
From the heaven in her eye to her heather-sweet lips.
And the soft, silver moonshine
Neck and arm of the colleen complately eclipse;
Whilst the nose of the jewel
Slants straight as Carn Tual
From the heaven in her eye to her heather-sweet lips.
O, where, &c.
Did your eyes ever follow
The wings of the swallow
Here and there, light as air, o'er the meadow field glance?
For if not you've no notion
Of the exquisite motion
Of her sweet little feet as they dart in the dance.
The wings of the swallow
Here and there, light as air, o'er the meadow field glance?
For if not you've no notion
Of the exquisite motion
Of her sweet little feet as they dart in the dance.
O, where, &c.
If y' inquire why the nightingale
Still shuns the invitin' gale
That wafts every song-bird but her to the West,
Faix she knows, I suppose,
Ould Kenmare has a Rose
That would sing any Bulbul to sleep in her nest.
Still shuns the invitin' gale
That wafts every song-bird but her to the West,
Faix she knows, I suppose,
Ould Kenmare has a Rose
That would sing any Bulbul to sleep in her nest.
O, where, &c.
When her voice gives the warnin'
For the milkin' in the mornin'
Ev'n the cow known for hornin' comes runnin' to her pail;
The lambs play about her
And the small bonneens snout her,
Whilst their parints salute her wid a twisht of the tail.
For the milkin' in the mornin'
Ev'n the cow known for hornin' comes runnin' to her pail;
The lambs play about her
And the small bonneens snout her,
Whilst their parints salute her wid a twisht of the tail.
O, where, &c.
20
When at noon from our labour
We draw neighbour wid neighbour
From the heat of the sun to the shilter of the tree,
Wid spuds fresh from the bilin'
And new milk you come smilin',
All the boys' hearts beguilin', alannah machree!
We draw neighbour wid neighbour
From the heat of the sun to the shilter of the tree,
Wid spuds fresh from the bilin'
And new milk you come smilin',
All the boys' hearts beguilin', alannah machree!
O, where, &c.
But there's one sweeter hour
When the hot day is o'er
And we rest at the door wid the bright moon above,
And she sittin' in the middle,
When she's guessed Larry's riddle,
Cries, “Now for your fiddle, Shiel Dhuv, Shiel Dhuv!
When the hot day is o'er
And we rest at the door wid the bright moon above,
And she sittin' in the middle,
When she's guessed Larry's riddle,
Cries, “Now for your fiddle, Shiel Dhuv, Shiel Dhuv!
O, where
Can her like be found?
Nowhere,
The country round,
Spins at her wheel
Daughter as true,
Sets in the reel,
Wid a slide of the shoe,
a slinderer,
tinderer,
purtier,
wittier colleen than you,
Rose, aroo!
Can her like be found?
Nowhere,
The country round,
Spins at her wheel
Daughter as true,
Sets in the reel,
Wid a slide of the shoe,
a slinderer,
tinderer,
purtier,
wittier colleen than you,
Rose, aroo!
21
FAN FITZGERL
Wirra, wirra! ologone!
Can't ye lave a lad alone,
Till he's proved there's no tradition left of any other girl—
Not even Trojan Helen,
In beauty all excellin'—
Who's been up to half the divlement of Fan Fitzgerl.
Can't ye lave a lad alone,
Till he's proved there's no tradition left of any other girl—
Not even Trojan Helen,
In beauty all excellin'—
Who's been up to half the divlement of Fan Fitzgerl.
Wid her brows of silky black
Arched above for the attack,
Her eyes they dart such azure death on poor admirin' man;
Masther Cupid, point your arrows,
From this out, agin the sparrows,
For your bested at Love's archery by young Miss Fan.
Arched above for the attack,
Her eyes they dart such azure death on poor admirin' man;
Masther Cupid, point your arrows,
From this out, agin the sparrows,
For your bested at Love's archery by young Miss Fan.
See what showers of goolden thread
Lift and fall upon her head,
The likes of such a trammel-net at say was niver spread
For, whin accurately reckoned,
'Twas computed that each second
Of her curls has cot a Kerryman and kilt him dead.
Lift and fall upon her head,
The likes of such a trammel-net at say was niver spread
For, whin accurately reckoned,
'Twas computed that each second
Of her curls has cot a Kerryman and kilt him dead.
Now mintion, if ye will,
Brandon Mount and Hungry Hill,
Or Ma'g'llicuddy's Reeks renowned for cripplin' all they can;
Still the countryside confisses
None of all its precipices
Cause a quarther so much carnage as the nose of Fan.
Brandon Mount and Hungry Hill,
Or Ma'g'llicuddy's Reeks renowned for cripplin' all they can;
Still the countryside confisses
None of all its precipices
Cause a quarther so much carnage as the nose of Fan.
22
But your shatthered hearts suppose
Safely steered apast her nose,
She's a current and a reef beyant to wreck them rovin' ships.
My maning it is simple;
For that current is her dimple,
And the cruel reef 'twill coax ye to 's her coral lips.
Safely steered apast her nose,
She's a current and a reef beyant to wreck them rovin' ships.
My maning it is simple;
For that current is her dimple,
And the cruel reef 'twill coax ye to 's her coral lips.
I might inform ye further
Of her bosom's snowy murther,
And an ankle ambuscadin' through her gown's delightful whirl;
But what need, when all the village
Has forsook its peaceful tillage,
And flown to war and pillage all for Fan Fitzgerl!
Of her bosom's snowy murther,
And an ankle ambuscadin' through her gown's delightful whirl;
But what need, when all the village
Has forsook its peaceful tillage,
And flown to war and pillage all for Fan Fitzgerl!
EVA TUOHILL
Who's not heard of Eva Tuohill,
Munster's purest, proudest jewel—
Queen of Limerick's lovely maidens,
Cork's colleens, and Galway's girls—
With her slender shape that's swimmin'
Like a swan among the women,
With her voice of silver cadence,
And her crown of clustering curls?
Munster's purest, proudest jewel—
Queen of Limerick's lovely maidens,
Cork's colleens, and Galway's girls—
With her slender shape that's swimmin'
Like a swan among the women,
With her voice of silver cadence,
And her crown of clustering curls?
O! the eyes of Eva Tuohill!
Now, why wouldn't Cromwell cruel
Just have called two centuries later
With his cannon at Tervoe?
For, one flash of angry azure
Through that silky black embrasure,
And away old Noll should scatter
With his army out of view.
Now, why wouldn't Cromwell cruel
Just have called two centuries later
With his cannon at Tervoe?
23
Through that silky black embrasure,
And away old Noll should scatter
With his army out of view.
Is't describe you, Eva Tuohill,
With the dozenth rapier duel
Fought to fix her sweet complexion
And the colour of her hair?
Is it picture you her figure,
That's compelled so many a trigger
Take the deadliest direction
Through the early morning air?
With the dozenth rapier duel
Fought to fix her sweet complexion
And the colour of her hair?
Is it picture you her figure,
That's compelled so many a trigger
Take the deadliest direction
Through the early morning air?
Well, no wonder, Eva Tuohill!
Since you're just one glorious jewel,
Lit with lovely flying flushes
From delightful lip to brow;
Now in dreams your eyes they darkle,
Now with joy they dance and sparkle;
Now your cheek is bathed in blushes,
Drowned in dimpled laughter now.
Since you're just one glorious jewel,
Lit with lovely flying flushes
From delightful lip to brow;
Now in dreams your eyes they darkle,
Now with joy they dance and sparkle;
Now your cheek is bathed in blushes,
Drowned in dimpled laughter now.
But your beauty, Eva Tuohill,
Is no opal false and cruel;
Nor the meteor star deceiving,
Flashing ruin from above.
No! but some divinest splendour,
Out of angels' tear-drops tender
Crystalled, in one Iris weaving
Faith and Hope and Virgin Love.
Is no opal false and cruel;
Nor the meteor star deceiving,
Flashing ruin from above.
No! but some divinest splendour,
Out of angels' tear-drops tender
Crystalled, in one Iris weaving
Faith and Hope and Virgin Love.
24
NANCY, THE PRIDE OF THE WEST
We have dark lovely looks on the shores where the Spanish
From their gay ships came gallantly forth,
And the sweet shrinking violets sooner will vanish
Than modest blue eyes from our north;
But, oh! if the fairest of fair-daughtered Erin
Gathered round at her golden request,
There's not one of them all that she'd think worth comparing
With Nancy, the pride of the west.
From their gay ships came gallantly forth,
And the sweet shrinking violets sooner will vanish
Than modest blue eyes from our north;
But, oh! if the fairest of fair-daughtered Erin
Gathered round at her golden request,
There's not one of them all that she'd think worth comparing
With Nancy, the pride of the west.
You'd suspect her the statue the Greek fell in love with,
If you chanced on her musing alone,
Or some Goddess great Jove was offended above with,
And chilled to a sculpture of stone;
But you'd think her no colourless, classical statue,
When she turned from her pensive repose,
With her glowing grey eyes glancing timidly at you,
And the blush of a beautiful rose.
If you chanced on her musing alone,
Or some Goddess great Jove was offended above with,
And chilled to a sculpture of stone;
But you'd think her no colourless, classical statue,
When she turned from her pensive repose,
With her glowing grey eyes glancing timidly at you,
And the blush of a beautiful rose.
Have you heard Nancy sigh? then you've caught the sad echo
From the wind harp enchantingly borne.
Have you heard the girl laugh? then you've heard the first cuckoo
Carol summer's delightful return.
And the songs that poor ignorant country folk fancy
The lark's liquid raptures on high,
Are just old Irish airs from the sweet lips of Nancy,
Flowing up and refreshing the sky.
From the wind harp enchantingly borne.
Have you heard the girl laugh? then you've heard the first cuckoo
Carol summer's delightful return.
And the songs that poor ignorant country folk fancy
The lark's liquid raptures on high,
Are just old Irish airs from the sweet lips of Nancy,
Flowing up and refreshing the sky.
25
And though her foot dances so soft from the heather
To the dew-twinkling tussocks of grass,
It but warns the bright drops to slip closer together
To image the exquisite lass;
We've no men left among us, so lost to emotion,
Or scornful, or cold to her sex,
Who'd resist her, if Nancy once took up the notion
To set that soft foot on their necks.
To the dew-twinkling tussocks of grass,
It but warns the bright drops to slip closer together
To image the exquisite lass;
We've no men left among us, so lost to emotion,
Or scornful, or cold to her sex,
Who'd resist her, if Nancy once took up the notion
To set that soft foot on their necks.
Yet, for all that the bee flies for honey-dew fragrant
To the half-opened flower of her lips,
And the butterfly pauses, the purple-eyed vagrant,
To play with her pink finger-tips;
From all human lovers she locks up the treasure
A thousand are starving to taste,
And the fairies alone know the magical measure
Of the ravishing round of her waist.
To the half-opened flower of her lips,
And the butterfly pauses, the purple-eyed vagrant,
To play with her pink finger-tips;
From all human lovers she locks up the treasure
A thousand are starving to taste,
And the fairies alone know the magical measure
Of the ravishing round of her waist.
MOLLEEN OGE
Molleen oge, my Molleen oge,
Go put on your natest brogue,
And slip into your smartest gown,
You rosy little rogue;
For a message kind I bear
To yourself from ould Adair,
That Pat the Piper's come around
And there'll be dancin' there.
Go put on your natest brogue,
And slip into your smartest gown,
You rosy little rogue;
For a message kind I bear
To yourself from ould Adair,
That Pat the Piper's come around
And there'll be dancin' there.
26
Molleen dear, I'd not presume
To encroach into your room,
But I'd forgot a fairin'
I'd brought you from Macroom;
So open! and I swear
Not one peep upon you; there!
'Tis a silver net to gather
At the glass your golden hair.
To encroach into your room,
But I'd forgot a fairin'
I'd brought you from Macroom;
So open! and I swear
Not one peep upon you; there!
'Tis a silver net to gather
At the glass your golden hair.
Molleen pet, my Molleen pet.
Faix I'm fairly in a fret
At the time you're titivatin'
Molleen, aren't you ready yet?
Now net and gown and brogue,
Are you sure you're quite the vogue?
But, bedad, you look so lovely
I'll forgive you, Molleen oge!
Faix I'm fairly in a fret
At the time you're titivatin'
Molleen, aren't you ready yet?
Now net and gown and brogue,
Are you sure you're quite the vogue?
But, bedad, you look so lovely
I'll forgive you, Molleen oge!
27
COUNTRYSIDE COURTSHIPS
LONESOME LOVERS
SHE
Ochone! Patrick Blake,
You're off up to Dublin,
And sure for your sake
I'm the terrible trouble in;
For I thought that I knew
What my “Yes” and my “No” meant,
Till I tried it on you
That misfortunate moment.
But somehow I find,
Since I sent Pat away,
It must be in my mind
I was wishful he'd stay.
You're off up to Dublin,
And sure for your sake
I'm the terrible trouble in;
For I thought that I knew
What my “Yes” and my “No” meant,
Till I tried it on you
That misfortunate moment.
But somehow I find,
Since I sent Pat away,
It must be in my mind
I was wishful he'd stay.
While ago the young rogue
Came and softly stooped over,
And gave me a pogue
As I stretched in the clover;
How I boxed his two ears,
And axed him “How dare he?”
Now I'd let him for years—
'Tis the way women vary.
For somehow I find,
Since I sent Pat away,
It must be in my mind
I was wishful he'd stay.
Came and softly stooped over,
And gave me a pogue
As I stretched in the clover;
How I boxed his two ears,
And axed him “How dare he?”
Now I'd let him for years—
'Tis the way women vary.
28
Since I sent Pat away,
It must be in my mind
I was wishful he'd stay.
Oh! why wouldn't he wait
To put his comether
Upon me complate,
When we both were together?
But no, Patrick, no;
You must have me consentin'
Too early, and so
Kitty's late for repentin'.
For somehow I find,
Since I sent Pat away,
It must be in my mind
I was wishful he'd stay.
To put his comether
Upon me complate,
When we both were together?
But no, Patrick, no;
You must have me consentin'
Too early, and so
Kitty's late for repentin'.
For somehow I find,
Since I sent Pat away,
It must be in my mind
I was wishful he'd stay.
HE
Oh! Kitty O'Hea,
I'm the terrible trouble in,
For you're at Rossbeigh
And myself is in Dublin,
Through mistaking, bedad!
Your blushes and that trick
Of sighing you had
Showed a softness for Patrick.
And yet from my mind
A voice seems to spake:—
“Go back, and you'll find
That she's fond of you, Blake!”
I'm the terrible trouble in,
For you're at Rossbeigh
And myself is in Dublin,
Through mistaking, bedad!
Your blushes and that trick
Of sighing you had
Showed a softness for Patrick.
And yet from my mind
A voice seems to spake:—
“Go back, and you'll find
That she's fond of you, Blake!”
29
Oh! Dublin is grand,
As all must acknowledge,
Wid the Bank on one hand,
On the other the College.
I'd be proud to be Mayor
Of so splendid a city,
But I'd far sooner share
A cabin wid Kitty.
And I may so some day,
For that voice in my mind
Keeps seeming to say:—
“After all she'll be kind.”
As all must acknowledge,
Wid the Bank on one hand,
On the other the College.
I'd be proud to be Mayor
Of so splendid a city,
But I'd far sooner share
A cabin wid Kitty.
And I may so some day,
For that voice in my mind
Keeps seeming to say:—
“After all she'll be kind.”
Oh! Dublin is fine
Wid her ships on the river,
And her iligant line
Of bridges forever.
But, Kitty, my dear,
I'd exchange them this minute
For our small little pier
And my boat, and you in it.
And I may so some day,
For that voice in my mind
Keeps seeming to say:—
“After all she'll be kind.”
Wid her ships on the river,
And her iligant line
Of bridges forever.
But, Kitty, my dear,
I'd exchange them this minute
For our small little pier
And my boat, and you in it.
And I may so some day,
For that voice in my mind
Keeps seeming to say:—
“After all she'll be kind.”
Here you've beautiful squares
For all to be gay in,
Promenading in pairs,
Wid the band music playin';
But if I'd my choice,
Where our green hollies glisten,
To Kitty's sweet voice
I'd far sooner listen.
And I may so some day,
For that voice in my mind
Keeps seeming to say:—
“After all she'll be kind.”
For all to be gay in,
Promenading in pairs,
Wid the band music playin';
30
Where our green hollies glisten,
To Kitty's sweet voice
I'd far sooner listen.
And I may so some day,
For that voice in my mind
Keeps seeming to say:—
“After all she'll be kind.”
Here's a wonderful Park,
Where the wild beasts are feedin'
For the world like No'h's Ark
Or the Garden of Eden!
But, faix! of the two,
I'd rather be sittin'
Manœuvring, aroo!
Wid your comical kitten.
And I may so some day,
For that voice in my mind
Keeps seeming to say:—
“After all she'll be kind.”
Where the wild beasts are feedin'
For the world like No'h's Ark
Or the Garden of Eden!
But, faix! of the two,
I'd rather be sittin'
Manœuvring, aroo!
Wid your comical kitten.
And I may so some day,
For that voice in my mind
Keeps seeming to say:—
“After all she'll be kind.”
Yes, Dublin's a Queen
Wid her gardens and waters,
And her buildings between
For her sons and her daughters;
In learning so great,
So lovely and witty;
But she isn't complate
At all widout Kitty.
And that voice in my mind—
“Go back to the South!”—
So I will, then, and find
What you mane from her mouth.
Wid her gardens and waters,
And her buildings between
For her sons and her daughters;
In learning so great,
So lovely and witty;
But she isn't complate
At all widout Kitty.
31
“Go back to the South!”—
So I will, then, and find
What you mane from her mouth.
THE POTATO BLOSSOM
As fiddle in hand
I crossed the land,
Wid homesick heart so weighty,
I chanced to meet
A girl so sweet
That she turned my grief to gai'ty.
Now what cause for pause
Had her purty feet?
Faix, the beautiful flower of the pratee.
I crossed the land,
Wid homesick heart so weighty,
I chanced to meet
A girl so sweet
That she turned my grief to gai'ty.
Now what cause for pause
Had her purty feet?
Faix, the beautiful flower of the pratee.
Then more power to the flower of the pratee,
The beautiful flower of the pratee,
For fixin' the feet
Of that colleen sweet,
On the road to Cincinnati.
The beautiful flower of the pratee,
For fixin' the feet
Of that colleen sweet,
On the road to Cincinnati.
You'd imagine her eye
Was a bit of blue sky,
And her cheek had a darlin' dimple;
Her footstep faltered,
She blushed, and altered
Her shawl wid a timid trimble.
And, “Oh, sir, what's the blossom
You wear on your bosom?”
She asked most sweet and simple.
Was a bit of blue sky,
And her cheek had a darlin' dimple;
Her footstep faltered,
She blushed, and altered
Her shawl wid a timid trimble.
And, “Oh, sir, what's the blossom
You wear on your bosom?”
She asked most sweet and simple.
32
I looked in her face
To see could I trace
Any hint of lurkin' levity;
But there wasn't a line
Of her features fine
But expressed the gentlest gravity.
So quite at my aise
At her innocent ways,
Wid sorra a sign of brevity,
To see could I trace
Any hint of lurkin' levity;
But there wasn't a line
Of her features fine
But expressed the gentlest gravity.
So quite at my aise
At her innocent ways,
Wid sorra a sign of brevity,
Says I, “Don't you know
Where these blossoms blow,
And their name of fame, mavourneen?
I'd be believin'
You were deceivin'
Shiel Dhuv this summer mornin',
If your eyes didn't shine
So frank on mine,
Such a schemin' amusement scornin'.
Where these blossoms blow,
And their name of fame, mavourneen?
I'd be believin'
You were deceivin'
Shiel Dhuv this summer mornin',
If your eyes didn't shine
So frank on mine,
Such a schemin' amusement scornin'.
Now I don't deny
'Twould be asy why,
Clane off widout any reflection—
Barely to name
The plant of fame
Whose flower is your eye's attraction;
Asy for me,
But to you, machree,
Not the slenderest satisfaction;
'Twould be asy why,
Clane off widout any reflection—
Barely to name
The plant of fame
Whose flower is your eye's attraction;
Asy for me,
But to you, machree,
Not the slenderest satisfaction;
33
For somehow I know
If I answered you so,
You'd be mad you could disrimimber
In what garden or bower
You'd seen this flower
Or adornin' what forest timber,
Or where to seek
For its fruit unique
From June until Novimber.
If I answered you so,
You'd be mad you could disrimimber
In what garden or bower
You'd seen this flower
Or adornin' what forest timber,
Or where to seek
For its fruit unique
From June until Novimber.
Since thin, I reply,
You take such joy
In this blossom I love so dearly,
Wid a bow like this
Shall I lave you, miss,
Whin I've mentioned the name of it merely;
Or take your choice,
Wid music and voice,
Shall I sing you its history clearly?”
You take such joy
In this blossom I love so dearly,
Wid a bow like this
Shall I lave you, miss,
Whin I've mentioned the name of it merely;
Or take your choice,
Wid music and voice,
Shall I sing you its history clearly?”
“Oh! the song, kind sir,
I'd much prefer,”
She answered wid eager gai'ty.
So we two and the fiddle
Turned off from the middle
Of the road to Cincinnati,
And from under the shade
That the maples made
I sang her “The Song of the Pratee.
I'd much prefer,”
She answered wid eager gai'ty.
So we two and the fiddle
Turned off from the middle
Of the road to Cincinnati,
And from under the shade
That the maples made
I sang her “The Song of the Pratee.
34
BLACKBERRYING
When I was but a weeshy boy,
My mother's pride, my father's joy,
My mouth and hands had full employ,
When blackberries grew ripe;
And oft my mammy she should squeeze
The thorns from out my arms and knees,
And my good dad, to give me ease,
Put by his favourite pipe.
And even since I've become a man,
And dressed on quite a different plan,
I've still gone carrying the can,
When blackberries grew sweet.
Yes! trampling through the bramble brakes,
I'd court the keenest pains and aches
For two or three fair colleens' sakes,
Whose names I'll not repeat.
My mother's pride, my father's joy,
My mouth and hands had full employ,
When blackberries grew ripe;
And oft my mammy she should squeeze
The thorns from out my arms and knees,
And my good dad, to give me ease,
Put by his favourite pipe.
And even since I've become a man,
And dressed on quite a different plan,
I've still gone carrying the can,
When blackberries grew sweet.
Yes! trampling through the bramble brakes,
I'd court the keenest pains and aches
For two or three fair colleens' sakes,
Whose names I'll not repeat.
Till Norah of the amber hair,
Who'd been my partner here and there,
Around about and everywhere,
When blackberries came in;
As I just tried with too much haste
The richer, rarer fruit to taste,
That on her lips was goin' to waste,
She tosses up her chin,
And marches by me night and morn,
Her grey eyes only glancing scorn,
Regardless of the bitter thorn
That in my heart she's rooting!
Yet, somehow, something in my mind
Keeps murmuring, when she's most unkind,
“Have patience! she'll make friends, you'll find,
Ere blackberries finish fruiting!”
Who'd been my partner here and there,
Around about and everywhere,
When blackberries came in;
As I just tried with too much haste
The richer, rarer fruit to taste,
That on her lips was goin' to waste,
She tosses up her chin,
And marches by me night and morn,
Her grey eyes only glancing scorn,
Regardless of the bitter thorn
That in my heart she's rooting!
35
Keeps murmuring, when she's most unkind,
“Have patience! she'll make friends, you'll find,
Ere blackberries finish fruiting!”
LOVE'S HALLOWED SEAL
When sky-larks soaring to Heav'n were pouring
The trembling cadence of their long, sweet cry;
As lone I wandered and pensive pondered,
My Queen of Maidens she came musing by.
Her footstep faltered, she blushed and altered
Her crimson kerchief with gesture shy;
It could not hide her, and so beside her
I took the mountain track to old Athy.
The trembling cadence of their long, sweet cry;
As lone I wandered and pensive pondered,
My Queen of Maidens she came musing by.
Her footstep faltered, she blushed and altered
Her crimson kerchief with gesture shy;
It could not hide her, and so beside her
I took the mountain track to old Athy.
Till as we rounded the ridge that bounded
The cowslip meadow from the coom below,
A sad, slow tolling, from far uprolling,
Cast sudden shadow on my colleen's brow.
In prayer low bending she knelt, commending
The parting spirit to Heav'n above,
And that one motion of pure devotion
Has set a hallowed seal upon my love.
The cowslip meadow from the coom below,
A sad, slow tolling, from far uprolling,
Cast sudden shadow on my colleen's brow.
In prayer low bending she knelt, commending
The parting spirit to Heav'n above,
And that one motion of pure devotion
Has set a hallowed seal upon my love.
THE MILKING CAN
All in Tipp'rary's Golden Vale
I met with Kate Magee,
Upon her poll the milking pail,
A lamb beside her knee.
O, her eyes were dreams of blue,
With the sunlight dancing through,
And her laughing lips the hue
Of the rose upon the tree;
And a step so light, the daisies white
Scarce stirr'd upon the lea.
I met with Kate Magee,
Upon her poll the milking pail,
A lamb beside her knee.
36
With the sunlight dancing through,
And her laughing lips the hue
Of the rose upon the tree;
And a step so light, the daisies white
Scarce stirr'd upon the lea.
For a year, an eager, aching year,
With pleasure hard by pain,
And many a hope and many a fear,
I'd sought her love to gain.
Ev'ry art of tongue and eye
Fond lads with lasses try,
I had used with ceaseless sigh—
Yet all, yet all in vain;
And a fortnight since she made me wince
With her wit in that very lane.
With pleasure hard by pain,
And many a hope and many a fear,
I'd sought her love to gain.
Ev'ry art of tongue and eye
Fond lads with lasses try,
I had used with ceaseless sigh—
Yet all, yet all in vain;
And a fortnight since she made me wince
With her wit in that very lane.
But that morning, at the tender tale
Of trouble in my eyes,
Her footsteps fail, she lowers her pail,
And soft my name she sighs;
And a happy, happy man,
I'd her slender waist to span,
And a kiss above her can,
And a small hand for my prize,
As soft as silk, as white as milk,
And as warm as summer skies.
Of trouble in my eyes,
Her footsteps fail, she lowers her pail,
And soft my name she sighs;
And a happy, happy man,
I'd her slender waist to span,
And a kiss above her can,
And a small hand for my prize,
As soft as silk, as white as milk,
And as warm as summer skies.
37
CHANGING HER MIND
As I rolled on my side-car to Santry Fair,
I chanced round a corner on Rose Adair,
Her shoes in her hands as she took the track,
And a fowl in a basket upon her back.
“Step up, Miss Rose! Och, that bird's luck,
Attendin' the fair as Rose's duck,
As Rose's duck, as Rose's duck!”
“No! Shawn Magee, the bird's a goose,
And to travel with two, there's no sort of use.”
I chanced round a corner on Rose Adair,
Her shoes in her hands as she took the track,
And a fowl in a basket upon her back.
“Step up, Miss Rose! Och, that bird's luck,
Attendin' the fair as Rose's duck,
As Rose's duck, as Rose's duck!”
“No! Shawn Magee, the bird's a goose,
And to travel with two, there's no sort of use.”
I couldn't but laugh, though I'd had it hot,
But I fired, as I passed her, one partin' shot.
“The poor second gander that got the worst,”
Says I, “must leave Rose to mind the first.
The creature must fly and boldly try
To seem a swan in some girl's eye,
Some other girl's eye, some other girl's eye.
Good day to you, Rose, for I'd best push on,
And perhaps at the fair I'll be some girl's swan.”
But I fired, as I passed her, one partin' shot.
“The poor second gander that got the worst,”
Says I, “must leave Rose to mind the first.
The creature must fly and boldly try
To seem a swan in some girl's eye,
Some other girl's eye, some other girl's eye.
Good day to you, Rose, for I'd best push on,
And perhaps at the fair I'll be some girl's swan.”
But hardly a furlong away I'd flown,
When plainly behind me I heard her moan.
In a breath I was back, where she limped forlorn,
With her purty foot pierced by a thumpin' thorn.
With one soft squeeze I gave her ease;
Then turning kind, say she, “I find
I'm—changing—my—mind—I've changed my mind!”
“Change more,” says I. “What's that?” says she.
“Your name to mine. Be Rose Magee!”
When plainly behind me I heard her moan.
In a breath I was back, where she limped forlorn,
With her purty foot pierced by a thumpin' thorn.
With one soft squeeze I gave her ease;
Then turning kind, say she, “I find
I'm—changing—my—mind—I've changed my mind!”
“Change more,” says I. “What's that?” says she.
“Your name to mine. Be Rose Magee!”
38
JENNY, I'M NOT JESTING
“Ah, Jenny, I'm not jesting,
Believe what I'm protesting,
And yield what I'm requesting
These seven years through.”
“Ah, Lawrence, I may grieve you;
Yet, if I can't relieve you,
Sure, why should I deceive you
With words untrue.
But, since you must be courtin',
There's Rosy and her fortune,
'Tis rumoured your consortin'
With her of late.
Or there's your cousin Kitty,
So charming and so witty,
She'd wed you out of pity,
Kind Kate.”
Believe what I'm protesting,
And yield what I'm requesting
These seven years through.”
“Ah, Lawrence, I may grieve you;
Yet, if I can't relieve you,
Sure, why should I deceive you
With words untrue.
But, since you must be courtin',
There's Rosy and her fortune,
'Tis rumoured your consortin'
With her of late.
Or there's your cousin Kitty,
So charming and so witty,
She'd wed you out of pity,
Kind Kate.”
“Fie! Jenny, since I knew you,
Of all the lads that woo you,
None's been so faithful to you.
If truth were told;
Even when yourself was dartin'
Fond looks at fickle Martin,
Till off the thief went startin'
For Sheela's gold.”
“And, if you've known me longest,
Why should your love be strongest,
And his that's now the youngest,
For that be worst?”
“Fire, Jenny, quickest kindled
Is always soonest dwindled,
And thread the swiftest spindled
Snaps first.”
Of all the lads that woo you,
None's been so faithful to you.
If truth were told;
Even when yourself was dartin'
Fond looks at fickle Martin,
Till off the thief went startin'
For Sheela's gold.”
“And, if you've known me longest,
Why should your love be strongest,
And his that's now the youngest,
For that be worst?”
39
Is always soonest dwindled,
And thread the swiftest spindled
Snaps first.”
“If that's your wisdom, Larry,
The longer I can tarry,
The luckier I shall marry
At long, long last.”
“I've known of girls amusing,
Their minds, the men refusing,
Till none were left for choosing
At long, long last.”
“Well, since it seems that marriage
Is still the safest carriage,
And all the world disparage
The spinster lone;
Since you might still forsake me,
I think I'll let you take me.
Yes! Larry, you may make me
Your own!”
The longer I can tarry,
The luckier I shall marry
At long, long last.”
“I've known of girls amusing,
Their minds, the men refusing,
Till none were left for choosing
At long, long last.”
“Well, since it seems that marriage
Is still the safest carriage,
And all the world disparage
The spinster lone;
Since you might still forsake me,
I think I'll let you take me.
Yes! Larry, you may make me
Your own!”
FIXIN' THE DAY
PATRICKArrah, answer me now, sweet Kitty Mulreddin,
Why won't you be fixin' the day of our weddin'?
KITTY
Now, Patrick O'Brien, what a hurry you're in!
Can't you wait till the summer comes round to begin?
40
O, no, Kitty machree, in all sinse and all raison,
The winter's the properest marryin' saison;
For to comfort oneself from the frost and the rain,
There's nothin' like weddin' in winter, 'tis plain.
KITTY
If it's only protection you want from the cowld,
There's a parish that's called the Equator, I'm tould,
That for single young men is kept hot through the year.
Where's the use of your marryin'? off wid you there!
PATRICK
But there's also a spot not so pleasantly warmed,
Set aside for ould maids, if I'm rightly informed,
Where some mornin', if still she can't make up her mind,
A misfortune colleen, called Kathleen, you'll find.
KITTY
Is it threatenin' you are that I'll die an ould maid,
Who refused, for your sake, Mr. Laurence M'Quaide?
Faix! I think I'll forgive him; for this I'll be bound,
He'd wait like a lamb till the summer came round.
PATRICK
Now it's thinkin' I am that this same Mr. Larry
Is what makes you so slow in agreein' to marry.
41
And your wish to be settled wid me in such haste
Doesn't prove that you're jealous of him in the laste?
PATRICK
Well, we'll not say that Kitty'll die an ould maid.
KITTY
And we'll bother no more about Larry M'Quaide.
PATRICK
But, Kitty machree, sure those weddin's in spring,
When the Long Fast is out, are as common a thing
As the turfs in a rick, or the stones on a wall—
Faith! you might just as well not be married at all.
But a weddin', consider, at this side of Lent,
Would be thought such a far more surprisin' event—
So delightful to all at this dull time of year.
Now say “Yes!” for the sake of the neighbours, my dear!
KITTY
No, Patrick, we'll wed when the woods and the grass
Wave a welcome of purtiest green, as we pass
Through the sweet cowslip meadow, and up by the mill
To the chapel itself on the side of the hill—
Where the thorn, that's now sighin' a widow's lamint,
In a bridesmaid's costume 'll be smilin' contint,
42
Of Patrick O'Brien and Kitty Mulreddin.”
PATRICK
Will you really promise that, Kitty, you rogue?
KITTY
Whisper, Patrick, the contract I'll seal wid—a pogue.
[Kissing him.
BARNEY BRALLAGHAN
On a night of June
A fine young Irish farmer
Thus takes up his tune,
Complainin' to his charmer;
“'Tis a twelve-month, Kate,
Since I first came courtin',
Yet my suit you trate
Still with cruel sportin'.
A fine young Irish farmer
Thus takes up his tune,
Complainin' to his charmer;
“'Tis a twelve-month, Kate,
Since I first came courtin',
Yet my suit you trate
Still with cruel sportin'.
Och, just say
You'll be Mrs. Brallaghan!
Don't say nay,
Charmin' Kitty Callaghan!”
You'll be Mrs. Brallaghan!
Don't say nay,
Charmin' Kitty Callaghan!”
43
“Eyes, whose heavenly ray
Shot through shadowy fringes,
Cost me in one day
Twenty thousand twinges.
Dimpled chin and cheek,
Whose hue just sets me silly,
Since, 'tis hide and seek
Betwixt the rose and lily.
Shot through shadowy fringes,
Cost me in one day
Twenty thousand twinges.
Dimpled chin and cheek,
Whose hue just sets me silly,
Since, 'tis hide and seek
Betwixt the rose and lily.
Beauty's star,
Charmin' Kitty Callaghan,
That's what you are,
Sighs poor Barney Brallaghan.”
Charmin' Kitty Callaghan,
That's what you are,
Sighs poor Barney Brallaghan.”
“And though there's just a doubt,
If I've enough of cash, dear,
You've the lovely mout'
And I the grand moustache, dear;
You've the genteel taste,
And I'm the boy to hit it;
You've the perfect waist,
And I the arm to fit it.
If I've enough of cash, dear,
You've the lovely mout'
And I the grand moustache, dear;
You've the genteel taste,
And I'm the boy to hit it;
You've the perfect waist,
And I the arm to fit it.
So just say
You'll be Mrs. Brallaghan;
Don't say nay,
Charmin' Kitty Callaghan!”
You'll be Mrs. Brallaghan;
Don't say nay,
Charmin' Kitty Callaghan!”
44
COUNTRYSIDE COUPLES
THE REAPER'S REVENGE
Oft and oft I dream, astore,
With secret sighs and laughter,
How once you reaped the field before,
And I came gatherin' after.
While tenderly, tenderly, with the corn
Looks of love you threw me;
Till I stood up with eyes of scorn
And withered your hope to woo me.
With secret sighs and laughter,
How once you reaped the field before,
And I came gatherin' after.
While tenderly, tenderly, with the corn
Looks of love you threw me;
Till I stood up with eyes of scorn
And withered your hope to woo me.
Oft and oft I'm dreamin' still,
With smiles and tears together,
Of how I stretched, so weak and ill,
Thro' all the wintry weather;
While tenderly, tenderly, still you'd tap,
Seeking news of Norah;
Till I grew fonder of your rap
Than father's voice, acora!
With smiles and tears together,
Of how I stretched, so weak and ill,
Thro' all the wintry weather;
While tenderly, tenderly, still you'd tap,
Seeking news of Norah;
Till I grew fonder of your rap
Than father's voice, acora!
Most I mind the plan conceal'd
That thro' the spring amused you,
To wait to find me in the field,
Where rashly I refused you;
Then earnestly, earnestly, in my eyes
Gaze, till I return'd you
The look of looks and sigh of sighs
On the spot where once I spurn'd vou.
That thro' the spring amused you,
To wait to find me in the field,
Where rashly I refused you;
45
Gaze, till I return'd you
The look of looks and sigh of sighs
On the spot where once I spurn'd vou.
THE LIGHT IN THE SNOW
Oh! Pat, the bitter day when you bravely parted from us,
The mother and myself on the cruel quays of Cork:
When you took the long kiss, and you gave the faithful promise
That you'd soon bring us over to be wid you at New York.
The mother and myself on the cruel quays of Cork:
When you took the long kiss, and you gave the faithful promise
That you'd soon bring us over to be wid you at New York.
But the times they grew worse through the wild, weary winter,
And my needle all we had to find livin' for us two;
While the mother drooped and drooped till I knelt down forenint her
And closed her dyin' eyes, dear—but still no word of you.
And my needle all we had to find livin' for us two;
While the mother drooped and drooped till I knelt down forenint her
And closed her dyin' eyes, dear—but still no word of you.
Then the neighbours thought you false to me, but I knew you better,
Though the bud became the leaf, and the corn began to start;
And the swallow she flew back, and still sorra letter,
But I sewed on and on, Pat, and kep' a stout heart.
Though the bud became the leaf, and the corn began to start;
And the swallow she flew back, and still sorra letter,
But I sewed on and on, Pat, and kep' a stout heart.
46
Till the leaves they decayed, and the rook and the starlin'
Returned to the stubble, and I'd put by enough
To start at long last in search of my darlin'
Alone across the ocean so unruly and rough.
Returned to the stubble, and I'd put by enough
To start at long last in search of my darlin'
Alone across the ocean so unruly and rough.
Until at the end, very weak and very weary,
I reached the overside, and started on my search;
But no account for ever of Patrick for his Mary,
By advertisin' for you, dear, or callin' you in church.
I reached the overside, and started on my search;
But no account for ever of Patrick for his Mary,
By advertisin' for you, dear, or callin' you in church.
Yet still I struggled on, though my heart was almost broken
And my feet torn entirely on the rough, rugged stone;
Till that day it came round, signs by and by token,
The day five year that we parted you, mavrone!
And my feet torn entirely on the rough, rugged stone;
Till that day it came round, signs by and by token,
The day five year that we parted you, mavrone!
Oh! the snow it was sweepin' through the dark, silent city,
And the cruel wind it cut through my thin, tattered gown.
Still I prayed the good God on his daughter to take pity;
When a sudden, strange light shone forenint me up the town.
And the cruel wind it cut through my thin, tattered gown.
Still I prayed the good God on his daughter to take pity;
When a sudden, strange light shone forenint me up the town.
And the light it led on till at last right opposite
A large, lonely house it vanished, as I stood,
Wid my heart axing wildly of me, was it, oh, was it
A warnin' of ill or a token of good?
A large, lonely house it vanished, as I stood,
Wid my heart axing wildly of me, was it, oh, was it
A warnin' of ill or a token of good?
47
When the light kindled up agin, brighter and bigger,
And the shadow of a woman across the windy passed;
While close, close, and closer to her stole a man's figure,
And I fainted, as you caught me in your true arms at last.
And the shadow of a woman across the windy passed;
While close, close, and closer to her stole a man's figure,
And I fainted, as you caught me in your true arms at last.
Then Pat, my own Pat, I saw that you were altered
To the shadow of yourself by the fever on the brain!
While “Mary, Mary darlin',” at last your lips they faltered,
You've given your poor Patrick his mem'ry back again.”
To the shadow of yourself by the fever on the brain!
While “Mary, Mary darlin',” at last your lips they faltered,
You've given your poor Patrick his mem'ry back again.”
And the good, gentle priest, when he comes, is never weary
Of sayin', as he spakes of that light in the snow,
“The Lord heard your prayer, and in pity for you, Mary,
Restored Pat the raison that he lost long ago.”
Of sayin', as he spakes of that light in the snow,
“The Lord heard your prayer, and in pity for you, Mary,
Restored Pat the raison that he lost long ago.”
THE BLUE, BLUE SMOKE
Oh! many and many a time
In the dim old days,
When the chapel's distant chime
Pealed the hour of evening praise,
I've bowed my head in prayer;
Then shouldered scythe or bill,
And travelled free of care
To my home across the hill;
Whilst the blue, blue smoke
Of my cottage in the coom,
Softly wreathing,
Sweetly breathing,
Waved my thousand welcomes home.
In the dim old days,
When the chapel's distant chime
Pealed the hour of evening praise,
I've bowed my head in prayer;
Then shouldered scythe or bill,
And travelled free of care
To my home across the hill;
Whilst the blue, blue smoke
Of my cottage in the coom,
Softly wreathing,
Sweetly breathing,
Waved my thousand welcomes home.
48
For oft and oft I've stood,
Delighted in the dew,
Looking down across the wood,
Where it stole into my view—
Sweet spirit of the sod,
Of our own Irish earth,
Going gently up to God
From the poor man's hearth.
O, the blue, blue smoke
Of my cottage in the coom,
Softly wreathing,
Sweetly breathing
My thousand welcomes home.
Delighted in the dew,
Looking down across the wood,
Where it stole into my view—
Sweet spirit of the sod,
Of our own Irish earth,
Going gently up to God
From the poor man's hearth.
O, the blue, blue smoke
Of my cottage in the coom,
Softly wreathing,
Sweetly breathing
My thousand welcomes home.
But I hurried swiftly on,
When Herself from the door
Came swimming like a swan
Beside the Shannon shore;
And after her in haste,
On pretty, pattering feet,
Our rosy cherubs raced
Their daddy dear to meet;
While the blue, blue smoke
Of my cottage in the coom,
Softly wreathing,
Sweetly breathing,
Waved my thousand welcomes home.
When Herself from the door
Came swimming like a swan
Beside the Shannon shore;
And after her in haste,
On pretty, pattering feet,
Our rosy cherubs raced
Their daddy dear to meet;
While the blue, blue smoke
Of my cottage in the coom,
Softly wreathing,
Sweetly breathing,
Waved my thousand welcomes home.
But the times are sorely changed
Since those dim old days,
And far, far I've ranged
From those dear old ways;
And my colleen's golden hair
To silver all has grown,
And our little cherub pair
Have cherubs of their own;
And the black, black smoke,
Like a heavy funeral plume,
Darkly wreathing,
Fearful breathing,
Crowns the city with its gloom.
Since those dim old days,
And far, far I've ranged
From those dear old ways;
49
To silver all has grown,
And our little cherub pair
Have cherubs of their own;
And the black, black smoke,
Like a heavy funeral plume,
Darkly wreathing,
Fearful breathing,
Crowns the city with its gloom.
But 'tis our comfort sweet,
Through the long toil of life,
That we'll turn with tired feet
From the noise and the strife,
And wander slowly back
In the soft western glow,
Hand in hand, by the track
That we trod long ago;
Till the blue, blue smoke
Of our cottage in the coom,
Softly wreathing,
Sweetly breathing,
Waves our thousand welcomes home.
Through the long toil of life,
That we'll turn with tired feet
From the noise and the strife,
And wander slowly back
In the soft western glow,
Hand in hand, by the track
That we trod long ago;
Till the blue, blue smoke
Of our cottage in the coom,
Softly wreathing,
Sweetly breathing,
Waves our thousand welcomes home.
TROTTIN' TO THE FAIR
Trottin' to the fair,
Me and Moll Malony,
Sated, I declare,
On a single pony;
How am I to know that
Molly's safe behind,
Wid our heads in oh! that
Awk'ard way inclined?
By her gintle breathin'
Whispered past my ear,
And her white arms wreathin'
Warm around me here.
Trottin' to the fair,
Me and Moll Malony,
Sated, I declare,
On a single pony.
Me and Moll Malony,
Sated, I declare,
On a single pony;
50
Molly's safe behind,
Wid our heads in oh! that
Awk'ard way inclined?
By her gintle breathin'
Whispered past my ear,
And her white arms wreathin'
Warm around me here.
Trottin' to the fair,
Me and Moll Malony,
Sated, I declare,
On a single pony.
Yerrig! Masther Jack,
Lift your fore-legs higher,
Or a rousin' crack
Surely you'll require.
“Ah!” says Moll, “I'm frightened
That the pony'll start,”
And her hands she tightened
On my happy heart;
Till, widout reflectin',
'Twasn't quite the vogue,
Somehow, I'm suspectin'
That I snatched a pogue.
Trottin' to the fair,
Me and Moll Malony,
Sated, I declare,
On a single pony.
Lift your fore-legs higher,
Or a rousin' crack
Surely you'll require.
“Ah!” says Moll, “I'm frightened
That the pony'll start,”
And her hands she tightened
On my happy heart;
Till, widout reflectin',
'Twasn't quite the vogue,
Somehow, I'm suspectin'
That I snatched a pogue.
Trottin' to the fair,
Me and Moll Malony,
Sated, I declare,
On a single pony.
51
JOULTIN' TO THE FAIR
Joultin' to the fair,
Three upon the pony,
That so lately were
Me and Moll Malony.
“How can three be on, boy?
Sure, the wife and you,
Though you should be wan, boy,
Can't be more nor two.”
Arrah, now then may be
You've got eyes to see
That this purty baby
Adds us up to three.
Joultin' to the fair,
Three upon the pony,
That so lately were
Me and Moll Malony.
Three upon the pony,
That so lately were
Me and Moll Malony.
“How can three be on, boy?
Sure, the wife and you,
Though you should be wan, boy,
Can't be more nor two.”
Arrah, now then may be
You've got eyes to see
That this purty baby
Adds us up to three.
Joultin' to the fair,
Three upon the pony,
That so lately were
Me and Moll Malony.
Come, give over, Jack,
Cap'rin' and curvettin',
All that's on your back
Foolishly forgettin';
For I've tuk the notion
Wan may cant'rin' go,
Trottin' is a motion
I'd extind to two;
But to travel steady
Matches best with three,
And we're that already,
Mistress Moll and me.
Joultin' to the fair,
Three upon the pony,
That so lately were
Me and Moll Malony.
Cap'rin' and curvettin',
All that's on your back
Foolishly forgettin';
For I've tuk the notion
Wan may cant'rin' go,
Trottin' is a motion
I'd extind to two;
52
Matches best with three,
And we're that already,
Mistress Moll and me.
Joultin' to the fair,
Three upon the pony,
That so lately were
Me and Moll Malony.
53
COUNTRYSIDE HUMOURS
THE CONFESSION
A lovely lass with modest mien
Stole out one morning early;
The dew-drops glancing o'er the green
Made all her pathway pearly.
Young Lawrence, struck with Cupid's dart—
Cupid's dart distressing—
As through the fields he saw her start,
Sighed, “She's gone confessing!
O vo! 'twould ease my heart
To earn the father's blessing.”
Stole out one morning early;
The dew-drops glancing o'er the green
Made all her pathway pearly.
Young Lawrence, struck with Cupid's dart—
Cupid's dart distressing—
As through the fields he saw her start,
Sighed, “She's gone confessing!
O vo! 'twould ease my heart
To earn the father's blessing.”
The father with a twinkling eye,
He watched my boyo cunning,
Unnoticed by his colleen's eye,
Behind the bushes running.
“How well,” he laughed, “young Lawrence there,
After all my pressing,
With his sweetheart, I declare,
Comes at last confessing.
Oho! I'll just take care
To give the lad a lesson.”
He watched my boyo cunning,
Unnoticed by his colleen's eye,
Behind the bushes running.
“How well,” he laughed, “young Lawrence there,
After all my pressing,
With his sweetheart, I declare,
Comes at last confessing.
Oho! I'll just take care
To give the lad a lesson.”
54
The pleasant priest unbarred the door,
As solemn as a shadow,
“How slow,” cried he, “you've come before,
How hot-foot, now, my laddo!
The serious steal with looks sedate,
Seeking to be shriven,
But you, you're in no fitting state
Now to be forgiven.
So, go within and wait
With all your thoughts on heaven.”
As solemn as a shadow,
“How slow,” cried he, “you've come before,
How hot-foot, now, my laddo!
The serious steal with looks sedate,
Seeking to be shriven,
But you, you're in no fitting state
Now to be forgiven.
So, go within and wait
With all your thoughts on heaven.”
The fair one, following in a while,
Made out her faults with meekness;
The priest then asked her with a smile
Had she no other weakness,
And led with that young Lawrence in;
Her cheeks were now confessing.
“Well since 'tis after all a sin
Easy of redressing,
Here, dear, I'd best begin
To give you both my blessing.”
Made out her faults with meekness;
The priest then asked her with a smile
Had she no other weakness,
And led with that young Lawrence in;
Her cheeks were now confessing.
“Well since 'tis after all a sin
Easy of redressing,
Here, dear, I'd best begin
To give you both my blessing.”
THE DISCOVERY OF WHISKEY
Beimeedh a gole!
Fill up the bowl,
Let us console
Dull care wid a glass, boys!
Shall it be wine,
Fragrant and fine
Fresh smuggled from Spain underneath a mattrass, boys!
No! all of those pleasant
Casks out of Cadiz,
Leave as a present,
Lads, for the ladies!
But for ourselves, sure, what should we say
But whiskey for ever till dawnin' of day!
Beimeedh a gole!
Fill up the bowl,
Let us console
Dull care wid a glass, boys!
Shall it be wine,
Fragrant and fine
Fresh smuggled from Spain underneath a mattrass, boys!
55
Casks out of Cadiz,
Leave as a present,
Lads, for the ladies!
But for ourselves, sure, what should we say
But whiskey for ever till dawnin' of day!
Beimeedh a gole!
Beimeedh a gole!
Wasn't it droll,
He that first stole
Fire from Heav'n's grate, boys!
Look now, was left
Chained to a cleft,
A century through, for an aigle to ate, boys!
St. Pat tho', when stealin'
Fire from that quarter,
Kept it concealin'
Snug under water,
Till he'd conveyed it safe to the ground,
Then look'd, and, begorra, 'twas whiskey he found!
Beimeedh a gole!
Wasn't it droll,
He that first stole
Fire from Heav'n's grate, boys!
Look now, was left
Chained to a cleft,
A century through, for an aigle to ate, boys!
St. Pat tho', when stealin'
Fire from that quarter,
Kept it concealin'
Snug under water,
Till he'd conveyed it safe to the ground,
Then look'd, and, begorra, 'twas whiskey he found!
Beimeedh a gole!
Beimeedh a gole!
Each wid his poll
Quite in control,
For all it's containin';
Smilin' we sit,
Warmin' our wit
Wid nectar the Gods might begrudge us the drainin'.
Now ere we go snoozin'
Under the clothes,
Don't be refusin'
One health I propose;
Here's to the darlin', pale as the dew,
That pounds purple Bacchus and all of his crew!
Beimeedh a gole!
Each wid his poll
Quite in control,
For all it's containin';
Smilin' we sit,
Warmin' our wit
Wid nectar the Gods might begrudge us the drainin'.
56
Under the clothes,
Don't be refusin'
One health I propose;
Here's to the darlin', pale as the dew,
That pounds purple Bacchus and all of his crew!
Beimeedh a gole!
ONE AT A TIME
As she sat spinnin' beside her door,
Sweet Kitty Kelly of Farranfore,
In dropped, as often he'd done before,
Ned Byrne, the young Schoolmaster.
He took the seat that she signed him to
And then that same to her side he drew,
When up there hurried big Tom McHugh
Who lived by lath and plaster.
He took the seat that Miss Kate supplied
And drew that same to her other side.
“Now do spake one at a time,” she cried,
“And we'll get on the faster.”
Sweet Kitty Kelly of Farranfore,
In dropped, as often he'd done before,
Ned Byrne, the young Schoolmaster.
He took the seat that she signed him to
And then that same to her side he drew,
When up there hurried big Tom McHugh
Who lived by lath and plaster.
He took the seat that Miss Kate supplied
And drew that same to her other side.
“Now do spake one at a time,” she cried,
“And we'll get on the faster.”
Says Ned, “Miss Kelly, but don't you see,
My business needs but yourself and me.”
“Then since, at present at least, we're three,
'Twill have to wait,” says Kitty.
“Now, Tom McHugh, 'tis your turn to start.”
“Well then, Miss Kitty, first come apart.”
“And hurt poor Ned to the very heart!
Your selfish plans I pity.
But since I've guessed what you're both about,
P'r'aps now 'tis best not to leave you in doubt;
So here's the whole of the murder out—
I'm promised to Daniel Whitty.”
My business needs but yourself and me.”
“Then since, at present at least, we're three,
'Twill have to wait,” says Kitty.
“Now, Tom McHugh, 'tis your turn to start.”
“Well then, Miss Kitty, first come apart.”
“And hurt poor Ned to the very heart!
Your selfish plans I pity.
57
P'r'aps now 'tis best not to leave you in doubt;
So here's the whole of the murder out—
I'm promised to Daniel Whitty.”
THE KILKENNY CATS
In the dacent ould days
Before stockings or stays
Were invented, or breeches, top-boots and top-hats,
You'd search the whole sphere
From Cape Horn to Cape Clear
And never come near to the likes of our Cats
Och, tunder! och, tunder!
You'd wink wid the wonder
To see them keep under the mice and the rats;
And go wild for half shares
In the phisants and hares
They pull'd up the backstairs to provision our Pats
Och! the Cats of Kilkenny, Kilkenny's wild Cats!
Before stockings or stays
Were invented, or breeches, top-boots and top-hats,
You'd search the whole sphere
From Cape Horn to Cape Clear
And never come near to the likes of our Cats
Och, tunder! och, tunder!
You'd wink wid the wonder
To see them keep under the mice and the rats;
And go wild for half shares
In the phisants and hares
They pull'd up the backstairs to provision our Pats
Och! the Cats of Kilkenny, Kilkenny's wild Cats!
But the shame and the sin
Of the Game Laws came in,
Wid the gun and the gin of the landlord canats;
And the whole box and dice
Of the rats and the mice
Made off in a trice from our famishing Cats
What did the bastes do?
What would I or you?
Is it lie down and mew till we starved on our mats?
Not at all, faix! but fall
Small and great, great and small,
Wid one grand caterwaul on each other's cravats.
Och! the Cats of Kilkenny, Kilkenny's wild Cats!
Of the Game Laws came in,
Wid the gun and the gin of the landlord canats;
And the whole box and dice
Of the rats and the mice
Made off in a trice from our famishing Cats
What did the bastes do?
What would I or you?
58
Not at all, faix! but fall
Small and great, great and small,
Wid one grand caterwaul on each other's cravats.
Och! the Cats of Kilkenny, Kilkenny's wild Cats!
And that mortial night long
We should hark, right or wrong,
To the feast and the song of them cannibal Cats,
Gladiath'rin away
Till the dawn of the day
In fifty-three sharps, semiquavers and flats
And when we went round
Wid the milk-carts we found
Scattered over the ground, like a sprinkle of sprats—
(All the rest, bit and sup,
Of themselves they'd ate up)
Only just the tip-ends of the tails of the Cats,
Of the Cats of Kilkenny, Kilkenny's quare Cats!
We should hark, right or wrong,
To the feast and the song of them cannibal Cats,
Gladiath'rin away
Till the dawn of the day
In fifty-three sharps, semiquavers and flats
And when we went round
Wid the milk-carts we found
Scattered over the ground, like a sprinkle of sprats—
(All the rest, bit and sup,
Of themselves they'd ate up)
Only just the tip-ends of the tails of the Cats,
Of the Cats of Kilkenny, Kilkenny's quare Cats!
THE JUG OF PUNCH
As I was sitting with my glass and spoon
One pleasant evening in the month of June,
A thrush sang out of an Ivy bunch
And the tune he trolled was the Jug of Punch.
Tooralloo, tooralloo, tooralloo, tooralloo!
A Jug of Punch, a Jug of Punch,
And the tune he trolled was the Jug of Punch.
One pleasant evening in the month of June,
A thrush sang out of an Ivy bunch
And the tune he trolled was the Jug of Punch.
Tooralloo, tooralloo, tooralloo, tooralloo!
A Jug of Punch, a Jug of Punch,
And the tune he trolled was the Jug of Punch.
59
What more divarsion might a man require
Than coorting a lass o'er a nate turf fire,
With a Kerry pippin to cut and crunch,
And on the table a Jug of Punch.
Tooralloo, tooralloo, tooralloo, tooralloo!
A Jug of Punch, a Jug of Punch,
And on the table a Jug of Punch.
Than coorting a lass o'er a nate turf fire,
With a Kerry pippin to cut and crunch,
And on the table a Jug of Punch.
Tooralloo, tooralloo, tooralloo, tooralloo!
A Jug of Punch, a Jug of Punch,
And on the table a Jug of Punch.
The doctor fails with all his art
To cure an impression upon the heart;
But even the cripple forgets his hunch,
When he's snug outside of a Jug of Punch.
Tooralloo, tooralloo, tooralloo, tooralloo!
A Jug of Punch, a Jug of Punch,
When he's snug outside of a Jug of Punch.
To cure an impression upon the heart;
But even the cripple forgets his hunch,
When he's snug outside of a Jug of Punch.
Tooralloo, tooralloo, tooralloo, tooralloo!
A Jug of Punch, a Jug of Punch,
When he's snug outside of a Jug of Punch.
Let the mortial Gods drink their nectar wine,
And the quality sip their claret fine,
But I'd give you all their grapes in a bunch
For one jolly pull at a Jug of Punch.
Tooralloo, tooralloo, tooralloo, tooralloo!
A Jug of Punch, a Jug of Punch,
Oh, I'd give them all for a Jug of Punch.
And the quality sip their claret fine,
But I'd give you all their grapes in a bunch
For one jolly pull at a Jug of Punch.
Tooralloo, tooralloo, tooralloo, tooralloo!
A Jug of Punch, a Jug of Punch,
Oh, I'd give them all for a Jug of Punch.
And when I'm dead and in my grave,
No costly tombstone will I crave,
But a quiet stretch in my native peat
With a Jug of Punch at my head and feet.
Tooralloo, tooralloo, tooralloo, tooralloo!
A Jug of Punch, a Jug of Punch,
Oh, more power to your elbow, my Jug of Punch!
No costly tombstone will I crave,
But a quiet stretch in my native peat
With a Jug of Punch at my head and feet.
Tooralloo, tooralloo, tooralloo, tooralloo!
A Jug of Punch, a Jug of Punch,
Oh, more power to your elbow, my Jug of Punch!
60
COLONEL CARTY
When Carroll axed Kate for her heart and a hand
That held just a hundred good acres of land,
Her lovely brown eyes
Opened wide with surprise
And her lips they shot scorn at his saucy demand;
“Young Carroll Maginn, put the beard to your chin
And the change in your purse if a wife you would win.”
That held just a hundred good acres of land,
Her lovely brown eyes
Opened wide with surprise
And her lips they shot scorn at his saucy demand;
“Young Carroll Maginn, put the beard to your chin
And the change in your purse if a wife you would win.”
Then Carroll made Kate his most illigant bow
And off to The Diggin's stravaged from the plough;
Till the beard finely grown,
And the pockets full blown,
Says he, “Maybe Kate might be kind to me now!”
So home my lad came, Colonel Carty by name,
To try a fresh fling at his cruel old flame.
And off to The Diggin's stravaged from the plough;
Till the beard finely grown,
And the pockets full blown,
Says he, “Maybe Kate might be kind to me now!”
So home my lad came, Colonel Carty by name,
To try a fresh fling at his cruel old flame.
But when Colonel Carty in splendour steps in,
For all his grand airs and great beard to his chin,
“Och, lave me alone!”
Cries Kate with a groan,
“For my heart's in the grave wid poor Carroll Maginn.”
“Hush sobbin' this minute, 'tis Carroll that's in it!
I've caged you at last, then, my wild little linnet!”
For all his grand airs and great beard to his chin,
“Och, lave me alone!”
Cries Kate with a groan,
“For my heart's in the grave wid poor Carroll Maginn.”
“Hush sobbin' this minute, 'tis Carroll that's in it!
I've caged you at last, then, my wild little linnet!”
61
THE ASS AND THE PETTICOAT
She hung her petticoat out to dry,
Sweet Kitty Kelly of Achonry;
When the Carroll's hungry ass came by
And made his meal upon it.
Sweet Kitty Kelly of Achonry;
When the Carroll's hungry ass came by
And made his meal upon it.
And when that same he had finished quite,
Devourin' on with all his might,
He choked to death, and sarve him right,
On Kitty's sweet sunbonnet.
Devourin' on with all his might,
He choked to death, and sarve him right,
On Kitty's sweet sunbonnet.
When Carroll found his old jackass dead,
He went completely off his head;
“The Kellys have poisoned you, poor old Ned,”
He spluttered like a porpoise.
He went completely off his head;
“The Kellys have poisoned you, poor old Ned,”
He spluttered like a porpoise.
“Such cruel murder I never saw,
The donkey's no more use than straw,
But agin you Kellys I'll have the law,
For I'll take out Habeas Corpus!”
The donkey's no more use than straw,
But agin you Kellys I'll have the law,
For I'll take out Habeas Corpus!”
And since the judges were goin' about,
The Kellys took a cross summons out
For trespass and larceny through the mout',
And they'd have no denial.
The Kellys took a cross summons out
For trespass and larceny through the mout',
And they'd have no denial.
And the Coroner, too, he came that way
And sat on the ass in a field of hay.
“'Tis felo-de-se,” says he, “I'd say;
But I'll send the case for trial.”
And sat on the ass in a field of hay.
“'Tis felo-de-se,” says he, “I'd say;
But I'll send the case for trial.”
62
And when they came to the Sessions Court,
You may say that the Wig and Gown had sport!
“Ass-assination” was their report
On the poor dead brayin' varmint.
You may say that the Wig and Gown had sport!
“Ass-assination” was their report
On the poor dead brayin' varmint.
The Carrolls a farthing damages got,
But for charmin' Kitty, why should they not,
The Counsellors all subscribed on the spot
A new bonnet and under garment.
But for charmin' Kitty, why should they not,
The Counsellors all subscribed on the spot
A new bonnet and under garment.
ONE SUNDAY AFTER MASS
One Sunday after Mass,
As Lawrence and his lass
Through the green woods did pass
All alone, and all alone!
As Lawrence and his lass
Through the green woods did pass
All alone, and all alone!
Chorus
All alone, and all alone!
He asked her for a pogue,
But she called him a rogue,
And she beat him with her brogue,
Ochone and ochone!
But she called him a rogue,
And she beat him with her brogue,
Ochone and ochone!
Chorus
Ochone and ochone!63
At first my boy he bent,
As if to take, content,
His proper punishment.
Small blame too, small blame!
As if to take, content,
His proper punishment.
Small blame too, small blame!
Chorus
Small blame too, small blame!
But on her purty foot,
Unbothered by a boot,
He pressed a warm salute.
For shame! fie! for shame!
Unbothered by a boot,
He pressed a warm salute.
For shame! fie! for shame!
Chorus
For shame! fie! for shame.
Then Larry gets the worst,
For she boxed his ears at first,
Then into tears she burst,
Ochone and ochone!
For she boxed his ears at first,
Then into tears she burst,
Ochone and ochone!
Chorus
Ochone and ochone!
But soon the artful rogue
Soothed his crying colleen oge,
Till she gave him just one pogue,
All alone, and all alone!
Soothed his crying colleen oge,
Till she gave him just one pogue,
All alone, and all alone!
Chorus
All alone, and all alone!64
THE INVENTION OF WINE
As one day I was restin'
Mount Mangerton's crest on,
An ould hedge schoolmaster, so larned and fine,
My comrade on the mountain,
Began thus recountin',
In this poem so romantic, The Invention of Wine.
Mount Mangerton's crest on,
An ould hedge schoolmaster, so larned and fine,
My comrade on the mountain,
Began thus recountin',
In this poem so romantic, The Invention of Wine.
Before Bacchus could talk
Or dacently walk,
Down Olympus he leaped from the arms of his nurse;
But though three years in all
Were consumed by the fall
He might have gone further and fared a deal worse
Or dacently walk,
Down Olympus he leaped from the arms of his nurse;
But though three years in all
Were consumed by the fall
He might have gone further and fared a deal worse
For he chanced, you must know,
On a flower and fruit show,
In some parish below, at the Autumn Assizes,
Where Solon and Crœsus,
Who'd been hearin' the cases,
By the people's consint were adjudgin' the prizes.
On a flower and fruit show,
In some parish below, at the Autumn Assizes,
Where Solon and Crœsus,
Who'd been hearin' the cases,
By the people's consint were adjudgin' the prizes.
“Fruit prize Number One
There's no question upon—
We award it,” they cried, in a breath, “to—the divle!
By the powers of the delf'
On your Lowness's shelf,
Who's this Skylarking Elf wid his manners uncivil?”
There's no question upon—
We award it,” they cried, in a breath, “to—the divle!
By the powers of the delf'
On your Lowness's shelf,
Who's this Skylarking Elf wid his manners uncivil?”
65
For widout even a ticket,
That Deity wicked,
Falling plump in their midst in a posture ungainly,
Pucked that bunch of prize grapes
Into all sorts of shapes
And made them two Judges go on most profanely.
That Deity wicked,
Falling plump in their midst in a posture ungainly,
Pucked that bunch of prize grapes
Into all sorts of shapes
And made them two Judges go on most profanely.
“O, the deuce!” shouted Solon,
“He's not left a whole un!”
“It's the juice thin, indeed,” echoed Crœsus, half-cryin';
For a squirt of that same,
Like the scorch of a flame,
Was playing its game the ould Patriarch's eye in.
“He's not left a whole un!”
“It's the juice thin, indeed,” echoed Crœsus, half-cryin';
For a squirt of that same,
Like the scorch of a flame,
Was playing its game the ould Patriarch's eye in.
Thin Solon said, “Tie him,
At our pleasure we'll try him.
Walk him off to the gaol, if he's able to stand it;
If not, why, thin get sure,
The loan of a stretcher,
And convey him away! Do yez hear me command it?”
At our pleasure we'll try him.
Walk him off to the gaol, if he's able to stand it;
If not, why, thin get sure,
The loan of a stretcher,
And convey him away! Do yez hear me command it?”
But Crœsus, long life to you,
Widout sorrow or strife to you,
And a peaceable wife to you, that continted you'll die!
Just thin you'd the luck
The forefinger to suck
That you'd previously stuck wid despair in your eye.
Widout sorrow or strife to you,
And a peaceable wife to you, that continted you'll die!
Just thin you'd the luck
The forefinger to suck
That you'd previously stuck wid despair in your eye.
66
No more that eye hurt you—
For the excellent virtue
Of the necther you'd sipped cured its smartin' at once,
And you shouted to Solon,
“Stop your polis patrollin'!
Where's the sinse your ould poll in, you ignorant dunce?
For the excellent virtue
Of the necther you'd sipped cured its smartin' at once,
And you shouted to Solon,
“Stop your polis patrollin'!
Where's the sinse your ould poll in, you ignorant dunce?
“Is it whip into quad
A celestial God,
For I'll prove in a crack that the crayther's divine.
Look here! have a sup,”
Some more juice he sopped up
In a silver prize cup, and They First Tasted Wine
A celestial God,
For I'll prove in a crack that the crayther's divine.
Look here! have a sup,”
Some more juice he sopped up
In a silver prize cup, and They First Tasted Wine
Said Solon, “Be Japers,
Put this in the papers;
For this child wid his capers is divine widout doubt!
Let's kneel down before him,
And humbly adore him,
Then we'll mix a good jorum of the drink he's made out.”
Put this in the papers;
For this child wid his capers is divine widout doubt!
Let's kneel down before him,
And humbly adore him,
Then we'll mix a good jorum of the drink he's made out.”
Now the whole of this time
That Spalpeen Sublime
Was preparing his mind for a good coorse of howlin';
For you've noticed, no doubt,
That the childer don't shout
Till a minute or more on their heads they've been rowlin'.
That Spalpeen Sublime
Was preparing his mind for a good coorse of howlin';
For you've noticed, no doubt,
That the childer don't shout
Till a minute or more on their heads they've been rowlin'.
67
“Milleah, murther!” at last
He shouted aghast,
“My blood's flowin' as fast as a fountain of wather;
It'll soon be all spilt,
And then I'll be kilt”—
Mistakin' the juice of the grapes for his slaughter.
He shouted aghast,
“My blood's flowin' as fast as a fountain of wather;
It'll soon be all spilt,
And then I'll be kilt”—
Mistakin' the juice of the grapes for his slaughter.
Thin, glancin' around,
He them gintlemen found
Their lips to the ground most adorin'ly placed,
Though I'm thinking the tipple,
Continuin' to ripple
Round that sacred young cripple, their devotion increased.
He them gintlemen found
Their lips to the ground most adorin'ly placed,
Though I'm thinking the tipple,
Continuin' to ripple
Round that sacred young cripple, their devotion increased.
“By Noah's Ark and the Flood,
They're drinking my blood.
O you black vagabones!” shouted Bacchus, “take that!”
Here wid infantile curses
He up wid his thrysus
And knocked the entire cavalcade of them flat.
They're drinking my blood.
O you black vagabones!” shouted Bacchus, “take that!”
Here wid infantile curses
He up wid his thrysus
And knocked the entire cavalcade of them flat.
But soon to his joy
That Celestial Boy,
Comprehendin' the carnage that reddened the ground,
Extendin' his pardon
To all in the garden,
Exclaimed wid a smile, as a crater he crowned—
That Celestial Boy,
Comprehendin' the carnage that reddened the ground,
Extendin' his pardon
To all in the garden,
Exclaimed wid a smile, as a crater he crowned—
68
“My bould girls and boys,
Be using your eyes;
For you now recognise the god Bacchus in me.
Come, what do you say
To a slight dajoonay,
Wid cowld punch and champagne, for I'm on for a spree?”
Be using your eyes;
For you now recognise the god Bacchus in me.
Come, what do you say
To a slight dajoonay,
Wid cowld punch and champagne, for I'm on for a spree?”
So widout further pressing,
Or the bother of dressing,
Down to table they sat wid that Haythen Divine,
And began celebratin',
Wid the choicest of atin',
And drinkin' like winkin' The Invention of Wine.
Or the bother of dressing,
Down to table they sat wid that Haythen Divine,
And began celebratin',
Wid the choicest of atin',
And drinkin' like winkin' The Invention of Wine.
THE HEROES OF THE SEA
I'll tell you of a wonder that will stiffen up your hair,
That happened two poor fishermen convenient to Cape Clear.
They just had run their boat afloat, they'd hardly gripped an oar,
When their dog leapt in, their cat stepped in, that ne'er did so before.
Now what overcame the creatures to start from shore?
That happened two poor fishermen convenient to Cape Clear.
They just had run their boat afloat, they'd hardly gripped an oar,
When their dog leapt in, their cat stepped in, that ne'er did so before.
Now what overcame the creatures to start from shore?
Says one brother: “What's come o'er them two, who ne'er on land agree,
To settle up their difference a-this-way on the sea?”
“I consave,” replied the other, “'tis the portent we could wish
For a powerful take of pilchard, since that same's their favourite fish.”
'Tis a symptom, for sure, of a power of fish.
To settle up their difference a-this-way on the sea?”
69
For a powerful take of pilchard, since that same's their favourite fish.”
'Tis a symptom, for sure, of a power of fish.
Well! when the risin' moon it showed a swiftly rushin' shoal,
Their net they shot and found they'd got a purty tidy haul.
But when a dozen yards of mesh they'd plumped into the hold,
They saw their fish were fine say-rats, which made their blood run cold,
As around and around them they screeched and rolled.
Their net they shot and found they'd got a purty tidy haul.
But when a dozen yards of mesh they'd plumped into the hold,
They saw their fish were fine say-rats, which made their blood run cold,
As around and around them they screeched and rolled.
But ere each rat could rip his way from out the noosin' net,
Bedad, the jaws of Towzer or the claws of Tom he met.
Then safely our two fishermen rowed home from out the bay,
And Tom and Towzer from that time were haroes you may say,
Round about the country-side, many and many a day.
Bedad, the jaws of Towzer or the claws of Tom he met.
Then safely our two fishermen rowed home from out the bay,
And Tom and Towzer from that time were haroes you may say,
Round about the country-side, many and many a day.
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |