University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
Mirth and Metre

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

collapse section
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
collapse section
 
 
collapse section
 
 
 
collapse section
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
MURPHY DELANEY.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
collapse section
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


117

MURPHY DELANEY.

[_]

(Published by Mr. Ryley, Strand, and Mr. Hime, Liverpool.)

It was Murphy Delaney, so funny and frisky,
Popp'd in a sheebeen shop to get his skin full;
And reel'd out again pretty well lin'd with whiskey,
So fresh as a shamrock, and blind as a bull;
But a trifling accident happen'd our rover,
Who took the quay-side for the floor of his shed,
And the keel of a coal-barge he just tumbled over,
And thought all the time he was going to-bed;
And sing fillalloo, hubbaboo, whack, botheration,
Every man in his humour, as Kate kiss'd the pig!
Some folks passing by, drew him out of the river,
And got a horse-doctor his sickness to mend;
Who swore that poor Pat was no longer a liver,
But dead as the devil, and there was an end;

118

So they sent for the coroner's jury to try him,
But Pat, not half liking the comical strife,
Fell to twisting and turning the while they sat by him,
And came (when he found it convenient) to life;
Sing fillalloo, &c.
Says Pat to the jury, “Your worships, an't please you,
I don't think I'm dead; so what is it you'd do?”
“Not dead!” said the foreman, “you spalpeen, be easy,
Do you think, don't the doctor know better than you?”
So then they went on in the business further;
Examin'd the doctor about his belief;
Then brought poor Delaney in guilty of murder,
And swore they would hang him in spite of his teeth;
Sing fillalloo, &c.
But Paddy click'd hold of a clumsy shelaly,
And laid on the doctor, who, stiff as a post,
Still swore that it cou'dn't be Murphy Delaney,
But was something alive, and so must be his ghost;
The jury began then with fear to survey him,
While he like the devil about him did pay;
So they sent out of hand for the clargy to lay him,
Put Pat laid the clargy, and then ran away;
Sing fillalloo, &c.