 | The White Pilgrim and Other Poems |  |
165
BRIAN BORU.
King Brian Boru was a monarch so bold,
He dressed cool in the heat, and dressed warm in the cold!
Sure never his equal on earth has been seen
For washing potatoes in kegs o' potheen;
When tired of the state and its manifold care,
Oh, he'd take his shillelagh to Donnybrook Fair,
With great condescension he'd join in the fun,
Break the heads of his subjects as if he was one,
And look such a darlin' that nobody knew
Whether he was St. Pathrick or Brian Boru.
He dressed cool in the heat, and dressed warm in the cold!
Sure never his equal on earth has been seen
For washing potatoes in kegs o' potheen;
When tired of the state and its manifold care,
Oh, he'd take his shillelagh to Donnybrook Fair,
With great condescension he'd join in the fun,
Break the heads of his subjects as if he was one,
And look such a darlin' that nobody knew
Whether he was St. Pathrick or Brian Boru.
King Brian Boru was a monarch so sly,
That he'd catch all the girls wid a wink of his eye!
He was neat, he was sweet, he was straight, he was big,
But never so great as when dancin' a jig;
He danced like a fairy that weighs twenty stone,
As the kings and the leprochauns trip it alone,
For he was a man of a wonderful kind,
And left several million descendants behind,
Till divil a one of the progeny knew
Who owned the succession of Brian Boru.
That he'd catch all the girls wid a wink of his eye!
He was neat, he was sweet, he was straight, he was big,
But never so great as when dancin' a jig;
He danced like a fairy that weighs twenty stone,
As the kings and the leprochauns trip it alone,
For he was a man of a wonderful kind,
And left several million descendants behind,
Till divil a one of the progeny knew
Who owned the succession of Brian Boru.
166
King Brian Boru had red hair to the taste,
Which in beautiful ringlets hung down to his waist!
He had eyes just as green as me favourite cat,
Which when he was angry got greener than that:
Oh, an elegant vision was Brian to see,
Wid a crown on his head and a wench on his knee!
In one hand the sceptre, in t'other the bowl:
May the angels sing rest to His Majesty's sowl,
And remark to soft music that never they knew
Such a broth of a boy as King Brian Boru!
Which in beautiful ringlets hung down to his waist!
He had eyes just as green as me favourite cat,
Which when he was angry got greener than that:
Oh, an elegant vision was Brian to see,
Wid a crown on his head and a wench on his knee!
In one hand the sceptre, in t'other the bowl:
May the angels sing rest to His Majesty's sowl,
And remark to soft music that never they knew
Such a broth of a boy as King Brian Boru!
| The White Pilgrim and Other Poems | |