II. A Welcome to His Majesty.
[_]
Tune—Groves of Blarney.
Synoptical Analysis for the benefit af Young Persons studying this Song.
Stanza I. Welcome in general; in the following verses the specific excellencies of Ireland are stated. Stanza II. 1. National meat, and drink, and valour. Stanza III. 2. National riot in a superior style. Stanza IV. 3. National music. Stanza V. 4. National oratory. Stanza VI. 5. National gallantry. Stanzas VII. and VIII. National uproariousness. All these offered for the diversion of the King.
1
You're welcome over, my royal rover,
Coming in clover to Irish ground;
You'll never spy land, like this our island,
Lowland or Highland, up or down!
Our hills and mountains, our streams and fountains,
Our towns and cities all so bright,
Our salt-sea harbours, our grass-green arbours,
Our greasy larders will glad your sight.
2
'Tis here you'll eat, too, the gay potato,
Being a root to feed a king;
And you'll get frisky upon our whiskey,
Which, were you dumb, would make you sing;
And you'll see dashers, and tearing slashers,
Ready to face ould Beelzebub,
Or the devil's mother, or any other
Person whom you'd desire to drub.
3
Just say the word, and you'll see a riot
Got up so quiet, and polite,
At any minute you'd please to wish it,
Morning or evening, noon or night.
I'll lay a wager, no other nation
Such recreation to you could show,
As us, all fighting with great good manners.
Laying one another down so low.
4
And as for music, 'tis you'll be suited
With harp or bagpipe, which you please;
With woful melting, or merry lilting,
Or jovial quilting your heart to raise.
Sweet Catalani won't entertain you
With so much neatness of warbling tone,
As those gay swipers, or bold bagpipers,
Chanting in splendour over their drone.
5
Then there's our speaking, and bright speech-making,
Which, when you hear, 'twill make you jump;
When in its glory it comes before you,
'Twould melt the heart of a cabbage stump
'Tis so met'phoric, and paregoric,
As fine as Doric or Attic Greek,
'Twould make Mark Tully look very dully,
Without a word left in his cheek.
6
If any ladies, they should invade us,
The darling creatures, in your suite,
We'll so amuse them, and kindly use them,
That in ould Ireland they'll take root.
Our amorous glances, modest advances,
And smiling fancies, and all that,
Will so delight them, that they'll be crying,
Were you to part them away from Pat.
7
The mayors and sheriffs, in paunchy order,
And the recorders will go down
To gay Dunleary, all for to cheer ye,
And give you welcome to the town;
But though their speeching it may be pleasing,
All written out in comely paw,
'Twont be so hearty, as when all parties,
With million voices roar Huzza!
8
God bless your heart, sir, 'tis you will start, sir,
At that conspicuous thundering shout,
When Ireland's nation, with acclamation,
To hail their Sovereign will turn out.
England shall hear us, though 'tis not near us,
And the Scotch coast shall echo ring,
When we, uproarious, joining in chorus,
Shout to the winds, God Save the King!
