 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
LONESOME LOVERS
SHE
Ochone! Patrick Blake,
You're off up to Dublin,
And sure for your sake
I'm the terrible trouble in;
For I thought that I knew
What my “Yes” and my “No” meant,
Till I tried it on you
That misfortunate moment.
But somehow I find,
Since I sent Pat away,
It must be in my mind
I was wishful he'd stay.
You're off up to Dublin,
And sure for your sake
I'm the terrible trouble in;
For I thought that I knew
What my “Yes” and my “No” meant,
Till I tried it on you
That misfortunate moment.
But somehow I find,
Since I sent Pat away,
It must be in my mind
I was wishful he'd stay.
While ago the young rogue
Came and softly stooped over,
And gave me a pogue
As I stretched in the clover;
How I boxed his two ears,
And axed him “How dare he?”
Now I'd let him for years—
'Tis the way women vary.
For somehow I find,
Since I sent Pat away,
It must be in my mind
I was wishful he'd stay.
Came and softly stooped over,
And gave me a pogue
As I stretched in the clover;
How I boxed his two ears,
And axed him “How dare he?”
Now I'd let him for years—
'Tis the way women vary.
28
Since I sent Pat away,
It must be in my mind
I was wishful he'd stay.
Oh! why wouldn't he wait
To put his comether
Upon me complate,
When we both were together?
But no, Patrick, no;
You must have me consentin'
Too early, and so
Kitty's late for repentin'.
For somehow I find,
Since I sent Pat away,
It must be in my mind
I was wishful he'd stay.
To put his comether
Upon me complate,
When we both were together?
But no, Patrick, no;
You must have me consentin'
Too early, and so
Kitty's late for repentin'.
For somehow I find,
Since I sent Pat away,
It must be in my mind
I was wishful he'd stay.
HE
Oh! Kitty O'Hea,
I'm the terrible trouble in,
For you're at Rossbeigh
And myself is in Dublin,
Through mistaking, bedad!
Your blushes and that trick
Of sighing you had
Showed a softness for Patrick.
And yet from my mind
A voice seems to spake:—
“Go back, and you'll find
That she's fond of you, Blake!”
I'm the terrible trouble in,
For you're at Rossbeigh
And myself is in Dublin,
Through mistaking, bedad!
Your blushes and that trick
Of sighing you had
Showed a softness for Patrick.
And yet from my mind
A voice seems to spake:—
“Go back, and you'll find
That she's fond of you, Blake!”
29
Oh! Dublin is grand,
As all must acknowledge,
Wid the Bank on one hand,
On the other the College.
I'd be proud to be Mayor
Of so splendid a city,
But I'd far sooner share
A cabin wid Kitty.
And I may so some day,
For that voice in my mind
Keeps seeming to say:—
“After all she'll be kind.”
As all must acknowledge,
Wid the Bank on one hand,
On the other the College.
I'd be proud to be Mayor
Of so splendid a city,
But I'd far sooner share
A cabin wid Kitty.
And I may so some day,
For that voice in my mind
Keeps seeming to say:—
“After all she'll be kind.”
Oh! Dublin is fine
Wid her ships on the river,
And her iligant line
Of bridges forever.
But, Kitty, my dear,
I'd exchange them this minute
For our small little pier
And my boat, and you in it.
And I may so some day,
For that voice in my mind
Keeps seeming to say:—
“After all she'll be kind.”
Wid her ships on the river,
And her iligant line
Of bridges forever.
But, Kitty, my dear,
I'd exchange them this minute
For our small little pier
And my boat, and you in it.
And I may so some day,
For that voice in my mind
Keeps seeming to say:—
“After all she'll be kind.”
Here you've beautiful squares
For all to be gay in,
Promenading in pairs,
Wid the band music playin';
But if I'd my choice,
Where our green hollies glisten,
To Kitty's sweet voice
I'd far sooner listen.
And I may so some day,
For that voice in my mind
Keeps seeming to say:—
“After all she'll be kind.”
For all to be gay in,
Promenading in pairs,
Wid the band music playin';
30
Where our green hollies glisten,
To Kitty's sweet voice
I'd far sooner listen.
And I may so some day,
For that voice in my mind
Keeps seeming to say:—
“After all she'll be kind.”
Here's a wonderful Park,
Where the wild beasts are feedin'
For the world like No'h's Ark
Or the Garden of Eden!
But, faix! of the two,
I'd rather be sittin'
Manœuvring, aroo!
Wid your comical kitten.
And I may so some day,
For that voice in my mind
Keeps seeming to say:—
“After all she'll be kind.”
Where the wild beasts are feedin'
For the world like No'h's Ark
Or the Garden of Eden!
But, faix! of the two,
I'd rather be sittin'
Manœuvring, aroo!
Wid your comical kitten.
And I may so some day,
For that voice in my mind
Keeps seeming to say:—
“After all she'll be kind.”
Yes, Dublin's a Queen
Wid her gardens and waters,
And her buildings between
For her sons and her daughters;
In learning so great,
So lovely and witty;
But she isn't complate
At all widout Kitty.
And that voice in my mind—
“Go back to the South!”—
So I will, then, and find
What you mane from her mouth.
Wid her gardens and waters,
And her buildings between
For her sons and her daughters;
In learning so great,
So lovely and witty;
But she isn't complate
At all widout Kitty.
31
“Go back to the South!”—
So I will, then, and find
What you mane from her mouth.
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |