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FLAMING O'FLANAGINS.-Continued. The tazing, the cursing, the shouting, the shooting,

The clattering of glasses-the breaking of skullsThe dancing would sure be upon the best footing,

Wid Irish Miss Murphys and English Miss Bulls. The neat little party you'd like to see revel,

The loves and the whisky, and the devil knows what; And the dances that we whacked black and blue like the devil,

And the spalpeens we floored at the very first shot. O'Brien he went through the world without lying,

And he beat the Danes, a whole score of them flat; And faix, after that, the old Danes beat O'Brien,

And he died victorious, more glory for Pat.
Ever since that, the brave flaming O'Flanagans

Have fought in each battle, all the way round;
From Kilrush to Kilkenny, and all the way back again,

The blood of O'Flanagans covers the ground.
Do you see how I'm laughed at by all those queer vagabones,

Shouting and screaming twice as loud as they can? Paddy Flynn, I go bail, I'll give you a sore bag of bones

Ii you'll only come here and turn out like a man.
Do ve's think I'll stop here until morning, diverting ye’s

While me nate jug of punch is cooling outside?
Good night, boys, you know I'm sorry from parting ye’s,

But the love of the whisky was always me pride.

boys! fill your glasses, each hour that passes

Steals, it may be, on our last night's cheer; The day soon shall come, boy's, with fife and

drum, boys, Breaking shrilly on the soldier's ear. Drink to the faithful hearts that love us,

'Mid to-morrow's thickest fight; While our green flag floats above us,

Think, boys, 'tis for them we smite. Down with each mean flag, none but the green

flag Shall above us be in triumph seen; Oh! think on its glory, long shrined in story,

Charge for Erin and her flag of green!

Think on old Brian, war's mighty lion,

'Neath that banner 'twas he smote the Dane; The Northman and Saxon oft turned their

backs on, Those who bore it o’er each crimsoned plain. Beal-an-atha-Buidhe beheld it

Bagenal's fiery onset curb;
Scotch Munroe would fain have felled it,

We, boys, followed him from red Beinnburb.
Charged with Eoghan for our flag of green!

flag Shall above us be in triumph seen; Oh! think on its glory, long shrined in story,

Charged with Eoghan for our flag of reen!

And if at eve, boys, comrades shall grieve, boys,

O'er our corses, let it be with pride; When thinking that each, boys, on that red

beach, boys, Lies the flood-mark of the battle's tide. See! the first faint ray of morning

Gilds the east with yellow light! Hark! the bugle note gives warning

One full bumper to old friends to-night. Down with each mean flag, none but the green

flag Shall above us be in triumph seen: Oh! think on its glory, long shrined in story,

Fall or conquer for our flag of green!


Sweet jewel, my heart has gone out of my keepin',

An' I am wantin' it back wid a slice of your own;
For I drame through the night, when I ought to be sleepin',

Ov the purtiest girl in the country of Tyrone. "Tis yourself, an' you know it, more shame you won't show it,

But I'll list by my faith for a dashing dragoon,
If you don't quit your jokin', which is more than provokin',

And pity my love for you, Molly Muldoon.
There's Shusey Magee, drinks her tay out of chaney,

Her father, the drover, has money in store;
An’ Kitty McKenna, that plays the pianna,

An', troth, if I liked-no, I needn't say more. But little I care for themselves or their riches;

An' the music you'd make wid your nogginkan' spoon, Would be sweeter to me if I slept in the ditcles,

An' scraped the same pot wid you, Molly Muldoon. Och! Molly, achorra, don't kill me wid sorrow,

I'm awake on my feet wid the weight of my woes, My shouldin's neglected an' famine expected,

My plow in the meadow a roost for the crows. An' little it matters, my poor heart in tatters,

For a corpse on the board I'll be stretched for you soon; Or wid ribbons all flyin', I'll laugh while you're cryin',

Then wed where you will, cruel Molly Muldoon. I've a heart true an' tender to love you forever,

Five cows an' a cowlt, an' a guinea to spare; Not to mention my faction, the soul of a ruction,

Mayrone can't they scatter the fun ov a fair. But long-legged Mullen and crooked-eyed Cullen,

They brag of your smiles, but I'll alter their tone; For there's murther a-brewin' an' all of your doin',

I'm losin' my sowl for you, Molly Muldoon. But I don't care a rap if I never see glory,

He's not in shoe leather who'll take you from me;
An' for all your sweet schamin' the end of the story

Will tell in my favor, a calleen machree.
For I know in your heart there's a spark for me burnin',

No schamin' can smother, so whisper aroon;
'Tis a fortnight to Lent, an' you'll never repent,

If we're one for the ashes, sweet Molly Muldoon.

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Arrah! Barney,” cried she, an' she spoke

thro' the window, " Ah! would ye be taking me out of my bed? To come at this time it's a shame an' a sin,

tooIt's whisky, not love, that's got into your


face me,


OULD IRELAND SO GREEN. If your heart it was true, of my fame you'd

be tender, Consider the time, an' there's nobody in;

MICKEY DOOLAN was one of them boys as went fighting, Oh! what has a poor girl but her name to de. There was meetin's of factions, and rowin's and ructions;

And breaking of skulls on St. Patrick's Day; fend her?

Aud murderous deeds—ah! the devil to pay! No, Barney Avourneen, I won't let you in.”

He went armed wid an illigant sprig of shillalah. “ Ah! cushla,” cried he, “it's my heart is a

Says Biddy, his wife, “ Is it fightin' ye mean?fountain

Says Mickey, “Don't bother-go home to your mother; That weeps at the wrong it might lay at

I'm going out to fight for ould Ireland so green.” your door; Your name is more white than the snow on the

mountain, And Barney would die to preserve it as

CHORUS, pure. I'll go to my home, though the winter winds There's Billy O'Mulligan, Jimmy O'Sullivan,

Barney O'Toole and Johnny Mackay; I'll whistle them off, for I'm happy within; And Bobby O'Ryan and Shemus O'Brien, An' the words of my Kathleen will comfort

Goin' fightin' and tearin'—it's St. Patrick's Day. and bless me; ‘Oh! Barney Avourneen, I won't let you in.'” O'DONNELL ABU.

Well, we meets Danny Looran, and says to him: “ Danny,

Have ye come out to fight for the Queen or the Pope?
PROUDLY the note of the trumpet is sounding, Says Dan, “ It don't matter, for both or for either,
Loudly the war-cries arise on the gale;

So long as I fight, that's sufficient, I hope!
Fleetly the sted of Loc Suilig is bounding, Says Mick, " That'll do," and wid a shout of “Hurroo!”
To join the thick squadrons in Saimear's He jumped on Dan's coat and smashed his caubeen;
green vale.

And they nearly got murdered, but each of them knew,
On, every mountaineer,

That he fought for his country-old Ireland so green.-CHORUS.
Strangers to flight and fear,
Rush to the standard of dauntless Red

Bonnought and Gallowglass,

When they'd done with each other, they sat down to rest,
Throng from each mountain pass,

And they felt that they both a good action had done; On for old Erin-O'Donnell abu!

They'd fought for their country and bled for their homes, Princely O'Neill to our aid is advancing

And nearly got murdered and relished the fun! With many a chieftain and warrior-clan;

Then they both went together to fight side by side, A thousand proud steeds in his vanguard are

And they met Larry Moore walking calm and serene; prancing

So they broke in his skull, and knocked in his teeth, 'Neath the borders brave from the banks of

And jumped on his chest—for ould Ireland so green.-CHORUS.
The Bann.
Many a heart shall quail
Under its coat of mail,

Well, they got in a tangle and hit right and left,
Deeply the merciless tyrants shall rue; And smashed at each other-the blood flowed galore;
When on his ear shall ring,

And Danny hit Larry, and Larry hit Danny,
Borne on the breeze's wing,

And Michael from both of them made the blood pour! Tyrconnell's dread war-cry-O'Donnell abu! Then they all fell at once, and they sprawled on the ground, Wildly o'er Desmond the war-wolf is howling, Both Danny and Larry and Michael between;

Fearless the eagle sweeps ocer the plain; But they wouldn't let go, so they all went together,
The fox in the streets of the city is prowling, And rolled in a ditch-for ould Ireland so green.—CHORUS.
All-all who could scare them are banished

or slain.
Grasp, every stalwart hand,

Now some more sons of Erin were fighting for freedom,
Hackbut and battle-brand,

As they rowled in the ditch, heard them patriots cry; Pay them all back the deep debt so long But they oon fished 'em out, and for love of Home Rule, boys, due;

They gave 'em a thrashin' before they were dry!
Norris and Clifford well

Then they all at once felt as they wanted some liquor,
Can of Tir-Conaill tell

So away they went to a whisky shebeen ;
Onward to glory-O'Donnell abu!

And they murdered the keeper and smoked his tobaccy, Sacred the cause that Clan-Conaill's defending, nd emptied the till for ould Ireland so green.-CHORUS. The altar we kneel at, and homes of our

Ruthless the ruin the foe is extending, They'd just one more scrimmage before they wor partin',
Midnight is red with the plunderers' fires. And there wasn't so many got off with their lives;
On with O'Donnell then,

But them as wor left of them true sons of Erin,
Fight the old fight again,

Arrived safely home and pitched into their wives,
Sons of Tir-Conaill, all valiant and true; Danny Looran forgot where he left his right eyeball,
Make the false Saxon feel

And Larry Moore's face wasn't fit to be seen,
Erin's avenging steel,

And Mickey wor tired, and wouldn't go walking,
Strike for your country-O'Donnell abu! So rode home on a shutter for ould Ireland so green.-CHORUS.



FAITH! I greased my brogues and took my stick the twentieth JOHN BULL he was an Englishman, day of May, sirs,

And went to tramp one day, Then off to Dublin town I tripped to walk upon the sea, sirs; With three-pence in his pocket

To take him a long way;
To see if I could get employ to cut their hay and corn, sirs,
To pick up pence upon the sea the cockneys I might larn, sirs. He tramped along for miles and miles,

Yet no one did he see,

Till he fell in with an rishman,

Whose name was Paddy Magee,
With my phillaloo and heart so true,
Arrah! Billy O'Rourke's the boy, sirs.

Good morning, Pat, said John to him,

Where are you going to? I gave the Captain six thirteens to carry me o'er to Porgate,

Says Paddy: I hardly know myself, But before we got half o'er the road the wind it blew at a hard

I want a job to do. rate;

Have you got any money about you?

Said John Bull unto Pat. The sticks that grew up through the ship they sang out like a whistle,

1 Says Pat: It's the only thing I'm wanting,

For I haven't got a rap. And the sailors all, both great and small, they swore we's going to the devil.

Then they overtook a Scotchman,

Who, like them, was out of work; The ship she sang us all to sleep till they came to the place of To judge by his looks, he was hard up landing,

And as hungry as a Turk.
And those that were most fatigued, the sails ere out a-handing; Can you lend me a shilling, Scotty ?
They looked so smart they won my heart--says I: You fools of At last said Paddy Magee.

I'm sorry I canna, said the Scotchman, Although you've no tails to your coats you've money in your For I ha'e na got ane baubee. breeches.

Said the Englishman, I three-pence have, I met an honest gentleman a-traveling the road sirs,

What shall we do with that? Good morning, says I, pray how do you do? but he proved a mighty

Och! buy three-pen'orth of whisky, rogue, sirs;

It will cheer us up, said Pat. For, at the corner of a lane a pistol he pulled out, sirs,

Nay, dinna do that, said the Scotchman, And he rammed the muzzle, arrah, what a shame, into my very

I'll tell thee the best to do; mouth, sirs.

Just buy three-pence worth of oat-meal,

I'll make some nice burgoo. Your money, blast your Irish eyes! arrah! be merciful, cried I,

Now I think we had better buy a loaf, sirs.

The Englishman did say; He swore my brains he would blow out if I should bawl or cry,

And then in yonder hay-stack sirs ;

Our hunger sleep away. He leveled fair just for my sconce, three steps I did retire, sirs,

We can get a drink of water His pan it fiashed and his head I smashed—my shillelah don't miss

From yonder purling stream, fire, sir.

And the loaf shall be his in the morning,

Who has the greatest dream. A widow next did me employ all for to cut and thrash, sirs, No man like me could handle a flail, in troth, I was a dasher; The Englishman dreamt by the morning, She had a maid who used me well, but I, being afraid o' the

Ten million men had been beadle,

For ten years digging a turnip up, Bid her good morning, Madam, says I, I think you'll have use for The largest ever seen;

At last they got the turnip up,

By working night and day;

Then it took five million horses

This turnip to pull away. From the big town of Limerick lately I came,

Said the Scotchman: I've been dreaming I left Ireland solely bekase of my name;

Fifty million men had been For if anything wint wrong, or a mischief 'twas done,

For fifty years making a boiler, Shure they'd lave all the blame on my mother's own son.

The largest ever seen. So my name now is Paddy O'Connor,

What was it for? said the Englishman, 'Pon an Irishman's thrue word and honor;

Was it made of copper or tin? Oh, misfortune my curse light upon her,

It was made of copper, said Scotty, 'Twas she christened me Paddy Miles.

To boil your turnip in. If a windy was broke, or a house robbed of tiles,

Och! said Paddy, I've been dreaming And you'd ax who done that, shure they'd say Paddy Miles;

An awful great big dream; Who was it set fire to his reverence's wig?

I dreamt I was in a hay-stack, And cut the tail off Pat Flanigan's pig?

By the side of a purling stream, Who was it called Mishes Muloney a scollup?

I dreamt that you and Scotty was there, And gave Paddy McGee's cat the jallop?

As true as I'm an oaf; Some blackguards would hit me a wallop

By the powers! I dreamt I was hungry, And say it was you, Paddy Miles.

So I got up and eat the loaf.

your cradle!


JERRY MAHONY, arrah, my jewel! come let us

be off to the fair, For the Donovans all in their glory most cer

tainly mean to be there; Say they, “ The whole Mahony faction we'll

banish 'em out clear and clean." But it never was yet in their breeches their

bullaboo words to maintain.

There's Darby to head us, and Barney, as civil

a man as yet spoke, 'Twould make your mouth water to see him

just giving a bit of a stroke. There's Corney, the bandy-legged tailor, a boy

of the true sort of stuff, Who'd fight though the black blood was flowing

like butter-milk out of his buff.

There's broken-nose Bat from the mountain

last week he burst out of jailAnd Murty the beautiful Tory, who'd scorn in

a row to turn tail; Bloody Bill will be there like a darling-and

Jerry-och! let him alone, For giving his blackthorn a flourish, or lifting

a lump of a stone!

PADDV MILES.-Continued.
I worked in the bogs and behaved, as I thought,
From my master, Mick Flynn, a character brought;
But it done me no good, and I thought that was odd,
So I made up my mind for to leave the ould sod.
For the devil a wan would employ me.
The girls there they would annoy me;
They threatened at once to destroy me,
All bekase I was called Paddy Miles.
Who cut off one of the tails of Pat Flanigan's coat?
And who broke the left horn of Ned Shaughnessy's goat?
Who through the back door to the chapel got in,
And drank all the wine, blood and ounds, what a sin!
Who half-murdered a poorhouse inspector ?
And fired at a police detector;
When Miss Fagan, they tried to eject her?
Who was it, but you, Paddy Miles?
I trotted to Dublin to look for a place,
Tho' they'd ne'er saw me there, faix, they all knew my face;
The jackeens kept calling meself to annoy,
There goes Paddy Miles, he's a Limerick boy!
Till I flourished my sprig of shillelah,
And smattered their gobs so genteelly;
When the blood it began to flow freely,
Said I, How do you like Paddy Miles ?
In short, before long to this country I came,
And found Paddy Miles here was the same;
If my name wasn't changed I was likely to starve,
For bad luck to the master could I sarve.
So Paddy O'Connor it is made, sir,
An' if you wish to get a smart blade, sir,
Be me soul, then, you need not be afraid, sir,
For to hire me-I'm not Paddy Miles.

GREEN were the fields where my forefathers dwelt,

0! Erin, mavourneen, slan leat go brah!
Though our farm was small, yet comforts we felt,

0! Erin, mavouneen, slan leat go brah!
At length came the day when our lease did expire,
And fain would I live where before lived my sire;
But ah! well-a-day! I was forced to retire,

0! Erin, mavourneen! slan leat go brah! Though the laws I obeyed, no protection I found,

0! Erin, mavourneen! slan leat go brah!
With what grief I beheld my cot burned to the ground,

0! Erin, mavourneen! slan leat go brah!
Forced from my home-yea, from where I was born,
To range the wide world-poor, helpless, forlorn;
I look back with regret, and my heart strings are torn,

0! Erin, mavourneen! slan leat go brah! With principles pure, patriotic and firm,

0! Erin, mavourneen! slan leat go brah! To my country attached, and a friend to reform,

O! Erin, mavourneen! slan leat go brah! I supported old Ireland—was ready to die for it, If her foes e'er prevailed I was ell known to sigh for it; If her foes e'er prevailed I was well known to sigh for it;

0! Erin, mavourneen! slan leat go brah! But hark! I hear sounds, and my heart is strong beating,

0! Erin, mavourneen! slan leat go brah!
Loud cries for redress, and avaunt on retreating,

O! Erin, mavourneen! slan leat go brah!
We have numbers, and numbers do constitute pow'r-
Let us will to be free-and we're free from that hour;
Of Hibernia's brave sons, oh! we feel we're the flower-

Bole yudh, mavourneen! Erin go brah!

And Tim, who'd served in the militia, has his

ba yonet stuck on a pole; Foxy Dick has his scythe in good order-a neat

sort of tool on the whole; A cudgel I see is your weapon, and never I

knew it to fail; But I think that a man is more handy who

fights, as I do, with a flail.

We muster a hundred shellelahs, all handled

by ilegant men, Who battered the Donovans often, and now

will go do it again; To-day we will teach them some manners, and

show that, in spite of their talk, We still, like our fathers before us, are surely

the cocks of the walk.

After cutting out work for the sexton by

smashing a dozen or so, We'll quit in the utmost of splendor, and down

to Peg Slattery's go; In gallons we'll wash down the battle, and

drink to the next merry day, When mustering again in a body we all shall

go leathering away.


In the town of Athy one Jeremy Lanigan

Battered away till he had’nt à pound, His father he died and made him a man again,

Left him a farm and ten acres of ground! He gave a grand party to friends and rela

tions Who hadn't forgot him when sent to the

wall; And if you'll just listen, I'll make your eyes

glisten With the rows and the ructions of Lanigan's



LANIGAN'S BALL.--Continued.

FLAG OF OUR LAND. Myself, of course, got free invitations

for all the nice boys and girls I'd ask, Flag of our Land, that oft has streamed through battle's lurid And in less than a minute the friends and re

blaze and smoke, lations

When the long ranks were wrapped in flame, and in the shock the Were dancing away like bees round a cask. legions broke, Miss O'Hara, the nice little milliner,

Flag of our Land! for you, for us they say the sun of hope has set, Tipped me the wink to give her a call, We give them back the craven lie! we're shattered, but not beaten And soon I arrived with Timothy Glenniher

yet. Just in time for Lanigan's ball. There was lashins of punch and wine for the The Norman trampled on your folds, the Norman trampled on us,

ladies, Potatoes and cakes and bacon and tay, And Saxon hate and native guile did all the wreck that Hell could The Nolans and Doolans and all the O'Gradys do.

Were courtin' the girls and dancin' away. Not coward-like, but wild for fight, have we and they in conflict Songs there were as plenty as water,

met, From “ The Harp that once thro’ Tara's We've borne the loss for centuries; repulsed, but never beaten yet.

ould Hall,” To "Sweet Nelly Gray” and “The Ratcatcher's Daughter,"

This isle is ours, its plains and hills, from center to the utmost All singing together at Lanigan's ball.


We tread its soil, we speak its tongue, we dearly pray to see it They were startin' all sorts of nonsensical

free. dances.

Patience and faith shall do the work, and earnestness shall win the Turning around in a nate whirligig;

debt; But Julia and I soon scatthered their fancies, Hark you who still have hearts to toil; we're scattered, but not And tipped them the twist of a rale Irish

beaten yet. jig. Och mavrone! 'twas she that as glad o' me; We danced till we thought the ceilin' would While in this Irish Land there lives the spirit of an Irish race, fall

The pluck that smiles at worst reverse and meets disaster face to (For I spent three weeks in Burke's Academy

face, Learning a step for Lanigan's ball). By Heaven and all the shining stars, around the throne of Godhead

set, The boys were all merry, the girls were all The future teems with hope for us; we're watchful, but not beaten hearty,

Dancin' away in couples and groups,
When an accident happened-young Terence

* Perish the past! " the patriot cried; ay, let the mournful ages He put his right foot through Miss Hallo

go, ran's hoops.

With bitter feud, the curse of hate, they've made our heritage of The creature she fainted, and cried “Millia murther! ”

Into the darkness of our doom a ray of nobler glory let; She called all her friends and gathered them Seize fast the present; years to come they'll swear we were not all.

beaten yet. Ned Carmody swore he'd not stir a step fur

ther, But have satisfaction at Lanigan's ball.

Down with the feuds of vanished years, they waste our breath,

they break our strength; In the midst of the Miss Kerrigan A nobler creed, a nobler life, 'tis ours to preach and fill at length. fainted

Flag of our Land, float high and fair; they lie who say our sui Her cheeks all the while were as red as the

has set;

God and the future still are ours; we live, and are not beaten Some of the ladies declared she was painted,

yet. She took a small drop of potheen, I suppose. Her lover, Ned Morgan, so pow'rful and able,

THE FELON'S LOVE. When he saw his dear colleen stretched out by the wall,

“ GRACIE O'DONNELL-oh! why sit you there, He tore the left leg from under the table

Twining so calmly your bright yellow hair, And smashed all the china at Lanigan's ball. Wait you a lover to come from Knockbwee,

When the brown moon arises on mountain and sea ? Oh, boys, there was the ructions,

Myseli got a lick irom big Phelim McHugh, But I soon replied to his kind introductions,

“ You have eyes like the starlight on Nephin's gray peak, And kicked up a terrible hullabaloo.

There is bloom on your lips-why the snow on your cheek? Old Shamus the piper had like to be stran

The smile on thy face, gentle maiden, is gone, gled,

And the touch of your fingers is cold as the stone." They squeezed up his pipes, bellows, chanters and all;

I wait not a lover to come from Knockbwee, The girls in their ribbons they all got en- My lover's in chains on the wide swelling sea, tangled,

O, Willie mavourneen, when traitors stood high, And that put an end to Lanigan's ball.

The foe felt the galnce of your clear flashing eye.




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