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And the widow they all thought so shy, my eye!
In light and beauty beaming, is Kate of Kil
KATE OF KILLASHEE.-Continued.
THE WEDDING OF BALLYPOREEN. How bright her blushing glances of love when. e'er we met,
DESCEND, ye chaste nine, to a true Irish bard, Like rainbow tints upon the rose with dew of You're old maids, to be sure, but he sends you a card, morning wet,
To beg you'll assist a poor musical elf,
About maids, boys, a priest, and a wedding,
A supper, good cheer, and a bedding, which happened at Bally
poreen. Fair Kate, 'tis mine to wander afar from Erin's strand
'Twas a fine summer's morn, about twelve in the day, Alone beside the Hudson's wave, within the all the birds fell to sing, all the asses to bray,
strangers' land; But backward ever flies my heart to home and In their best bibs and tuckers, set off, side by side.
When Patrick, the bridegroom, and Oonagh, the bride, love and thee
0, the pipers play'd first in the rear, sir, To Longford's pleasant valleys and the Rose The maids blushed, the bridesmen did swear, sir; of Killashee.
0, Lord! how the spalleens did stare, sir, at thi wedding of
To make merry the day at the sign of the churn;
0, the banks of old Shannon ne'er saw such a group. I'll be roving all day until night does come on,
There were turf-cutters, threshers, and tailors,
And pedlers, and smugglers, and sailors, assembled at Ballyporeen.
Next fair day I'll get a fairing from my hand. There was Bryan MacDermot and Shaughnessy's brat, some young man,
With Terence and Triscol, and platter-faced Pat; Twenty bright kisses from my own darling There was Norah Macormic and Bryan O'Lynn, John;
And the fat, red-haired cook-maid, who lives at the inn. Confuse them, consume them that say I'm not There was Shelah, and Larry, the genius, true,
With Pat's uncle, old Derby Dennis; Through green groves and lofty mountains I'll Black Thady and crooked Macgennis, assembled at Ballyporeen.
rove with you. My love is far fairer than a fine summer day, And he charmed all their souls with his kind botheration;
Now the bridegroom sat down to make an oration, His breath is far sweeter than the new mown
They were welcome, he said, and he swore, and he cursed, hay; His hair shines like gold when exposed to the They might eat till they swelled, and might drink till they burst.
The first christening I have, if I thrive, sirs, sun, He is fair as the blossom of the Drinane Dhun. You'll be welcome all, dead or alive, sirs, to the christening at
I hope you all hither will drive, sirs; My love his is going to cross over the main,
Ballyporeen. May the Lord send him safe to his virtuous love again;
Then the bride she got up to make a low bow, He is gone and he's left me in grief for to tell, But she twittered, and felt so—she could not tell howO'er the green hills and lofty mountains be- She blushed and she stammered—the few words she let fall, tween us to dwell.
She whispered so low that she bothered them all.
But her mother cried: “What, are you dead, child ? I wish I had a small boat on the ocean to O, for shame of you, hold up your head, child; float,
Though sixty, I wish I was wed, child, oh, I'd rattle all BallyI'd follow my darling wherever he did resort;
poreen.” I'd sooner have my true love to roll, sport and play,
Now they sat down to meat-Father Murphy said grace,
The knives and forks rattled, spoons and platters did play,
Whole mountains of beef were cut down, sirs;
Ballyporeen. To welcome the blossoms of the Drinane Dhun.
There was bacon and greens, but the turkey was spoiled, Come, all you pretty fair maids, get married in Potatoes dressed both ways, both roasted and boiled; time
Hog's puddings, red herrings-the priest got the snipe, To some handsome young man that will keep Culcannon pies, dumpling, cod, cow-heel and tripe. up your prime;
Then they ate till they could eat no more, sirs, Beware of the winter morn, cold breezes come, And the whisky come pouring galore, sirs; Which will consume the blossoms early of the Such piping, such figuring and dancing, was ne'er known at BallyDrinane Dhun.
THE WEDDING OF BALLYPOREEN.-Continued.
THE COOLUN. Now the whisky went round, and the songsters did roar,
THE scene is beside where the Avonmore flowsTim sung “ Paddy O'Kelly,” Nell sung Molly Asthore; Till a motion was made that their songs they'd forsake,
'Tis the spring of the year, and the day's near
its close; And each lad take his sweetheart, their trotters to shake.
And an old woman sits with a boy on her Then the piper and couples advancing,
kneePumps, brogues, and bare feet fell a-prancing; Such piping, such figuring and dancing, was ne'er known at Ballp. She smiles like the evening, but he like the
Her hair is as white as the flax ere it's spun
It is brown as yon tree that is hiding the sun! Now to Patrick, the bridegroom, and Oonagh, the bride,
Beside the bright riverLet the harp of old Ireland be sounded with pride;
The calm, glassy river, And to all the brave guests, young or old, gray or green,
That's sliding and gliding all peaceDrunk or sober, that jigged it at Ballyporeen.
fully on. And when Cupid shall lend you his wherry, To trip o'er the conjugal ferry, I wish you may be half so merry as we were at Ballyporeen. “Come, granny,” the boy says, “you'll sing
me, I know,
The beautiful Coolun, so sweet and so low; BRYAN O'LYNN.
For I love its soft toncs more than luckbird
or thrush, BRYAN O'LYNN was a gentleman born,
Though often the tears in a shower will gush He lived at a time when no clothes they were worn;
From my eyes when I hear it. D ar granny, But as fashions walked out, of course, Bryan walked in
say why, “Whoo! I'll soon lead the fashions,” says Bryan O'Lynn. When my heart's full of pleasure, I sob and I
To hear the sweet CoolunBryan O’Lynn had no breeches to wear,
The beautiful CoolunHe got a sheep skin for to make him a pair;
An angel first sank it above in the sky?” With the fleshy side out, and the woolly side in“Whoo! they're pleasant and cool,” says Bryan O’Lynn.
And she sings and he listens; but many years
pass, Bryan O’Lynn had no shirt to his back,
And the old woman sleeps 'neath the chapelHe went to a neighbor's and borrowed a sack;
yard grass; Then he puckered the meal bag up under his chin
And a couple are seated upon the same stone, Whoo! they'll take them for ruffles,” says Bryan O’Lynn.
Where the boy sat and listened so oft to the
croneBryan O’Lynn had no hat to his head,
'Tis the boy—'tis the man, and he says while He stuck on the pot, being up to the dead;
he sighs, Then he murdered a cod for the sake of its fin
To the girl at his side with the love-streaming “Whoo! 'twill pass for a feather,” says Bryan O’Lynn.
"O! sing me, sweet Oonagh, Bryan O’Lynn was hard up for a coat,
My beautiful Oonagh, He borrowed a skin of a neighboring goat,
0! sing me the Coolun,” he says and he With the horns sticking out from his oxters, and then
sigh.3. “Whoo! they'll take them for pistols,” says Bryan O'Lynn.
That air, mo stor, brings back the days of my Bryan O’Lynn had no stockings to wear,
youth, He bought a rat's skin to make him a pair;
That flowed like a river there, sunny and He then drew them over his manly shin
smooth! “Whoo! they're illegant wear,” says Bryan OʻLynn.
And it brings back the old woman, kindly and
dearBryan O’Lynn had no brogue to his toes,
If her spirit, dear Oonagh, is hovering near, He hopped in two crab shells to serve him for those;
'Twill glad her to hear the old melody rise Then he split up two oysters that matched like twins
Warm, warm, on the wings of our love and our “Whoo! they'll shine out like buckles,” says Bryan O’Lynn.
“O! sing me the Coolun, Bryan O’Lynn had no watch to put on,
The beautiful Coolun!” He scooped out a turnip to make him a one;
Is the dew or a tear-drop is moistening Then he planted a cricket right under the skin“Whoo! they'll think it's a ticking,” says Bryan O’Lynn.
There's a change on the scene far more grand. Bryan O’Lynn to his house had no door,
far less fairHe'd the sky for a roof, and the bog for a floor;
By the broad rolling Hudson are seated the He'd a way to jump out, and a way to swim in
pair ; “ Whoo! it's very convaynient,” says Bryan O’Lynn.
And the dark hemlock-fir waves its branches
above, Bryan O’Lynn, his wife, and wife's mother,
As they sigh for their land, as they murmur They all went home o'er the bridge together ;
their love; The bridge it broke down, and they all tumbled in
Hush!--the heart hath been touched, and its “Whoo! we'll go home by water,” says Bryan O’Lyon.
By the green banks of Shannon I wooed thee, dear Mary,
When the sweet birds were singing in summer's gay pride,
From those green banks I turn now, heart-broken and dreary, The well of all memory's deep-flowing
As the sun sets to weep o'er the grave of my bride. springs.
Idly the sweet birds around me are singing;
Summer, like winter, is cheerless to me; They think of the bright stream they sat down I heed not if snow falls or flow'rets are springing, beside,
For my heart’s-light is darkened-my Cushla-mo-chree! When he was a bridegroom and she was his bride;
0! bright shone the morning when first as my bride, love, The pulses of youth seem to throb in the Thy foot, lik, a sunbeim, my threshold crossid o'er, strain
And blest on our hearth fell that soft eventide, love,
Wear the night-watches, still thinking on thee;
For my aching eyes find thee not, Cushla-mo-chree!
O, my loved one! my lost one! say, why didst thou leave me Not the air, but their native land faints To linger on earth with my heart in the grave! on the ear.
O! would thy cold arms, love, might ope to receive me
To my rest 'neath the dark boughs that over thee wave. Long in silence they weep, with hand clasped Still from our once happy dwelling I roam, love, in hand
Evermore seeking, my own bride, for thee; Then to God send up prayers for the far-off Ah, Mary! wherever thou art is my home, love, old land;
And I'll soon lie beside thee, my Cushla-mb-chree!
THE OLD BOG HOLE.
tentFor the Exile and Christian must evermore And a man without a woman through this world will sadly pass; sigh
My mother likes the ducks, and the ducks likes the drakes. For the home upon earth and the home in the Arrah! sweet Judy Flanagan, I'd die for your sakes. sky
My Judy she's as fair as the flowers on the lea,
She's neat and complete from the nick to the knee;
We met the other night, our hearts to condole,
and they sigh.
Ileaven bless thee, Old Bard, in whose bosom Arrah! cushla mavourneen, will you marry me? were nurst
Arrah! gramacree mavourneen, will you marry me? Emotions that into such melody burst!
Arrah! cushla mavourneen, will you marry me? Be thy grave ever green!—may the softest of Arrah! would you fancy the bold, bouncing Barney Magee?
Saying: Barney, you blackguard, I'd like to get wed.
I'll handle a hook, a shovel, and spade;
To kep you genteel, I'll work at my trade,
And the turf I'll procure, which is better than coal,
Fine children we will have, for you must mind that,
There will be Darby, Judy, Barney, Pat;
There will be Mary, so meek, and Kitty, so bluff,
And-Stop, stop! she cries, have you not got enough?
Till once I have as many as there's days in Lent;
How the people they will stare when we go for a stroll,
When we are promenading by the old bog hole.
By the hokey, says she, I can scarcely refuse, You'd better look out for the stout Corney For Barney the blarney he knows how to use; Creagh!
He has bothered my heart with the picture he has drawn,
If I thought I could trust you, I'd swear half a day;
And she gave her consent by the old bog hole.
THE BIRTH OF IRELAND.
“WITH due condescension, I'd call your attention to what I shall For sure I'm not wanting to meet you there,
mention of Erin so green, Impudent Barney O'Hea.
And, without hesitation, I'll show how that nation becanie, of For Corney's at Cork, and my brother's at creation, the gem and the queen.
work, And my mother sits spinning at home all the 'Twas early one morning, without any warning, that Vanus was day,
born in the beautiful Say, So no one will be there, of me to take care, And, by the same token, and sure 'twas provoking, her pinions And I hope you won't follow me, Barney were soaking, and wouldn't give play.
woo her—the wicked old JewWhen I got to the fair, sure the first I met And almost had caught her atop of the water-great Jupiter's there,
daughter!-which never would do! The first I met there, the first I met thereWhen I got to the fair, the first I met there, “ But Jove, the great janius, looked down and saw Vanus, and Was impudent Barney O'Hea.
Neptune so heinous pursuing her wild, He bothered and teased me, though somehow And he spoke out in thunder he'd rend him asunder-and sure he pleased me,
'twas no wonder-for tazing his child. Till at last-oh! the saints--what will poor Corney say!
“A star that was flying hard by him espying, he caught with But I think the boy's honest, so on Sunday I've
small trying and down let it snap; promised,
It fell quick as winking on Neptune a-sinking, and gave him, I'm For better or worse to take Barney O'Hea.
thinking, a bit of a rap. Impudent Barney', so sweet
That star it was dryland, both lowland and highland, and Impudent Barney O'Hea.
formed a sweet island, the land of my birth:
Thus plain is the story that, sent down from glory, old Erin CORMAC.
asthore is the gem of the earth! OCH! Cormac O'Grady, do cease your wild talk
“ Upon Erin nately jumped Vanus so stately, but fainted kase ing,
lately so hard she was pressed; Your likes at the blarney I niver did see;
Which much did bewilder, but, ere it had killed her, her father Your tongue's a machine that is always a-goin',
distilled her a drop of the best. And grindin' out nonsinse you're givin' to me;
* That sup was victorious; it made her feel glorious—a little upYour brain is asthray, and faith it's
roarious, I fear it might provewondher,
So how can you blame us that Ireland's so famous for drinking Now will you behave yourself, Cormac, I
and beauty, for fighting and love?” say? Take your arm from my waisht-nodo; do you hear me?
AN IRISH GIRL'S OPINION. If you don't, 'pon my word I'll be goin' away.
An Irish girl, and proud of it, a word I'd like to say
About the state of Erin's isle, my native place, to-day; That's right now; be aisy,-hush! don't begin And those with Irish blood in them will understand me best, talkin',
And feel for those poor peasants who are starving in the westi But listen, I think I should now say a Rack-rented, oft evicted, and turned out in the snow; word;
The sky their only shelter, not knowing where to go. With your blather, and foolin', and nonsinse, 'Tis scenes like these that shake our faith in England and its and capers,
throne; I can't find the manes for to make myself Oh! is the good time coming when the land shall be our own!
heard. Sit still now,-don't move,-if you do I'll be
CHORUS, goin'; If you want to come 'round here, come For John Bull lives in England, Taffy lives in Wales, dacintly, pray.
Sandy lives in Scotland, and weathers all the gales; You ought to get some one to tache you more Paddy fights for England, as everybody knows, manners;
Then give to him old Ireland where the shamrock grows. Faith, whin you are married you'll not be so gay.
I've seen the big ship crowded and ready for to start,
I've seen the aged mother from her only darling part; Aha! buit it's thin you will sit in a corner, I've seen the bitter tears that fell upon the big ship's deck,
Wid niver a word comin' out of your mouth; From a soldier-lad whose new-made bride was clinging 'round his If your wife don't conthrol you I'm greatly neck. mistaken;
In days gone by, they tell us, in story-book and rhyme, And larrup, and bate you, and bang you The hangman and his rope were very busy all the time; about;
But, thanks to Dan O'Connell, whose picture you have seen, Ha! ha! What a figure you'll make-gracious There's not a pow'r can hang us now for wearing of the green.goodness!