Song III. RAFFERTY'S ADVICE.
1
When you go courting a neat or a dainty lass,
Don't you be sighing or ready to faint, alas!
Little she'd care for such pluckless philandering,
And to Old Nick she would send you a wandering.
But, you thief, you rogue, you rapparee!
Arrah, have at her like Paddy O'Rafferty.
2
Tip her the wink, and take hold of the fist of her;
Kiss her before she'd have time to say Christopher;
She may cry out, “You're an impudent fellow, sir!”
But her eye will unsay what her tongue it may tell you, sir.
Oh, you thief, you rogue, you rapparee,
You're a devil of a fellow, Paddy O'Rafferty.
3
Give her another, or rather a score of 'em,
Still you will find her ready for more of 'em;
Press her, caress her, my dear, like a stylish man,
For that is the way to go court like an Irishman.
Oh, you, &c.
4
Pitch to the devil sighings and “well-a-days,”
Oglings and singing of piperly melodies;
When in your arms you fairly have got her, sir,
Her heart it will melt like a lump of fresh butter, sir!
Oh, you, &c.
5
Oh, the dear creatures—sure I am kill'd with 'em!
My heart, was it big as the sea, would be fill'd with 'em;
Far have I truff'd it, and surely where'er I went,
'Twas with the girls I had fun and merriment.
Oh, you thief, you rogue, you rapparee,
You're a devil of a fellow, Paddy O'Rafferty.
