Poems, on sacred and other subjects and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs |
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IRISH ECONOMY. |
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 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
286
IRISH ECONOMY.
Since I'm call'd for a song, let it be understood
That my voice is but harsh, and my ear is not good;
As to music, I ne'er in my life made pretence,
So I hope you'll look less to the sound than the sense.
But as for the subject, ay, there lies the deuce!
For war, love, and murder, are stale grown through use;
So I'll choose a new theme, quite apart from them all,
And scream you a stave about—Nothing at all.
Sing tara la, &c.
That my voice is but harsh, and my ear is not good;
As to music, I ne'er in my life made pretence,
So I hope you'll look less to the sound than the sense.
But as for the subject, ay, there lies the deuce!
For war, love, and murder, are stale grown through use;
So I'll choose a new theme, quite apart from them all,
And scream you a stave about—Nothing at all.
Sing tara la, &c.
One fine August morning, before it grew dark,
On board of a steam ship I went to embark
For the kingdom of Scotland, the harvest to cut,
And I station'd myself 'hind a big water butt:
But, before we set sail, my ould mother says, “Pat,
I'm afraid you won't make it:” says I, “Why? for what?”
“Because you've no cash, man, to pay the Fingal:”
“Aisy, mother,” says I; “For that's—Nothing at all.”
Tara la, &c.
On board of a steam ship I went to embark
For the kingdom of Scotland, the harvest to cut,
And I station'd myself 'hind a big water butt:
But, before we set sail, my ould mother says, “Pat,
I'm afraid you won't make it:” says I, “Why? for what?”
“Because you've no cash, man, to pay the Fingal:”
“Aisy, mother,” says I; “For that's—Nothing at all.”
Tara la, &c.
Then the vessel set off, with her fins by her side,
And up waves and down waves away she did ride;
Such splashing and dashing among the salt spray,
Made my head whirl round, and my eyes flew away:
And when it came round we our passage should pay,
I lay both blind and dumb, and my hearing gave way;
Though they rugg'd me and tugg'd me, and loudly did bawl,
I lay dead as a stone, and said—Nothing at all.
Tara la, &c.
And up waves and down waves away she did ride;
Such splashing and dashing among the salt spray,
Made my head whirl round, and my eyes flew away:
And when it came round we our passage should pay,
I lay both blind and dumb, and my hearing gave way;
Though they rugg'd me and tugg'd me, and loudly did bawl,
I lay dead as a stone, and said—Nothing at all.
Tara la, &c.
At length we arrived on the sweet river Clyde,
Where a hundred fine vessels at anchor did ride:
Thinks I, it's high time that I should make a push,
So I button'd my coat, and away I did brush:
I plunged in the water, and swam underneath,
As long, 'pon my soul, as I could do for breath,
Till I came to the side, when I quick out did crawl,
And took to my heels, saying—Nothing at all.
Tara la, &c.
Where a hundred fine vessels at anchor did ride:
Thinks I, it's high time that I should make a push,
So I button'd my coat, and away I did brush:
I plunged in the water, and swam underneath,
As long, 'pon my soul, as I could do for breath,
Till I came to the side, when I quick out did crawl,
And took to my heels, saying—Nothing at all.
Tara la, &c.
So on I went to a cook-shop to take a repast,
As I nothing had ate since I sail'd from Belfast,
Where I dined upon excellent soup and cow-heel,
And, as I was hungry, I took a good meal:
But how to get off set my wits all at war,
For a jolly big landlady stood at the bar;
Till I tipp'd her a nobber, and down she did fall;
Then I tripp'd off at ease, saying—Nothing at all.
Tara la, &c.
As I nothing had ate since I sail'd from Belfast,
287
And, as I was hungry, I took a good meal:
But how to get off set my wits all at war,
For a jolly big landlady stood at the bar;
Till I tipp'd her a nobber, and down she did fall;
Then I tripp'd off at ease, saying—Nothing at all.
Tara la, &c.
I was hired to cut corn with an ould moorland laird,
Who dragg'd us and slaved us confoundedly hard,
Where I pass'd for a fine boy, possess'd of much sense,
And was trusted to sleep with his son in the spence:
There I saw where the ould boy oft snugged his cash,
And resolved that some night I'd on it make a dash;
So I nipp'd off his purse from the head of the wall,
And, at midnight, tripp'd off, saying—Nothing at all.
Tara la, &c.
Who dragg'd us and slaved us confoundedly hard,
Where I pass'd for a fine boy, possess'd of much sense,
And was trusted to sleep with his son in the spence:
There I saw where the ould boy oft snugged his cash,
And resolved that some night I'd on it make a dash;
So I nipp'd off his purse from the head of the wall,
And, at midnight, tripp'd off, saying—Nothing at all.
Tara la, &c.
Quick off I return'd to my own native place,
Some sixty pounds richer in so short a space;
Where I rigg'd myself out as a dandy complete,
And the heart won of every fair maid I did meet.
Now, all you young boys, that your fortune would make,
Try Scotland, the land of the thistle and cake;
If you find it not there, you may just close the ball,
And to Ireland return, saying—Nothing at all.
Tara la, &c.
Some sixty pounds richer in so short a space;
Where I rigg'd myself out as a dandy complete,
And the heart won of every fair maid I did meet.
Now, all you young boys, that your fortune would make,
Try Scotland, the land of the thistle and cake;
If you find it not there, you may just close the ball,
And to Ireland return, saying—Nothing at all.
Tara la, &c.
| Poems, on sacred and other subjects | |