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The GOLDEN TREASURY of IRISH SONGS and LYRICS

CHARLES JAMES LEVER
(1806-1872)

LARRY M'HALE

H, Larry M'Hale he had little to fear,

OH

And never could want when the crops didn't

fail;

He'd a house and demesne and eight hundred a year, And a heart for to spend it, had Larry M'Hale!

The soul of a party, the life of a feast,

And an illigant song he could sing, I'll be bail;

He would ride with the rector, and drink with the priest,

Oh! the broth of a boy was old Larry M'Hale.

It's little he cared for the Judge or Recorder;
His house was as big and as strong as a jail;
With a cruel four-pounder he kept in great order
He'd murder the country, would Larry M'Hale.
He'd a blunderbuss too; of horse-pistols a pair!
But his favorite weapon was always a flail;
I wish you could see how he'd empty a fair,
For he handled it nately, did Larry M'Hale.

VIMU

His ancestors were kings before Moses was born,
His mother descended from great Grana Uaile:
He laughed all the Blakes and the Frenches to scorn;
They were mushrooms compared to old Larry
M'Hale.

He sat down every day to a beautiful dinner,

With cousins and uncles enough for a tail; And, though loaded with debt, oh! the devil a thinner Could law or the sheriff make Larry M'Hale.

With a larder supplied and a cellar well stored,
None lived half so well, from Fair-Head to Kinsale;
As he piously said, "I've a plentiful board,

And the Lord He is good to old Larry M'Hale."
So fill up your glass, and a high bumper give him,
It's little we'd care for the tithes or Repale;
For Ould Erin would be a fine country to live in,
If we only had plenty like Larry M'Hale.

D'

THE WIDOW MALONE

ID ye hear of the widow Malone,
Ohone !

Who lived in the town of Athlone,
Alone?

Oh! she melted the hearts
Of the swains in them parts
So lovely the widow Malone,
Ohone !
So lovely the widow Malone.

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From the minister down

To the Clerk of the Crown,

All were courting the widow Malone,

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Took ten kisses at laste.

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"Oh," says he, "you're my Molly Malone My own!"

"Oh," says he, “you're my Molly Malone!"

And the widow they all thought so shy,

My eye!

Ne'er thought of a simper or sigh

For why?

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