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Mirth and Metre

consisting of Poems, Serious, Humorous, and Satirical; Songs, Sonnets, Ballads & Bagatelles. Written by C. Dibdin, Jun
 
 

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THE TWIG OF SHELALY.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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86

THE TWIG OF SHELALY.

[_]

(TUNE, PADDY O`BLARNEY!)

Mulrooney's my name, I'm a comical boy,
A tight little lad at shelaly;
St. Paddy wid whiskey he suckled me, joy,
Among the sweet bogs of Kelaly!
The world I began with a prospect so fair,
My dad was worth nothing, and I was his heir;
So all my estate was a heart free from care,
And a tight little Twig of Shelaly.
“Turn captain,” cried dad, “and if kilt in de strife,
Success and long life to Shelaly!”
Your fortune is made all the rest of your life,
As sure as there's bogs in Kelaly.
But, thinks I, spite of what fame and glory bequeath,
How conceited I'd look in a fine laurel wreath,

87

Wid my head in my mouth to stand picking my teeth,
Wid a tight little Twig of Shelaly.
Yet firmly both Ireland and England I'll aid,
The lands of oak stick and shelaly;
For now these two sisters are man and wife made,
As sure as there's bogs, &c.
I'll still for their friends have a heart warm and true;
To their foes give my hand, for what else can I do?
Yes, I'll give 'em my hand—but, along wid it too,
A tight little, &c.