 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
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.
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |