WIDOW MCGEE.-Continued. Do you mind the black night, when the pigs in the lane Came grunting along to the gate where we stood? They all scampered in to keep out of the rain, Then I asked you to have me, and you said that you would. But I left you, you know and I told you I'd go To a country more beautiful, happy and free; Where I'd buy me a lot, and build me a cot, And send to old Erin for Widow McGee.CHORUS. Troth, I have me the home with a big yara before, THE LOW-BACKED CAR. WHEN first I saw sweet Peggy, A low-backed car she drove, and sat And when the hay was blooming grass Never asked for the toll, But just rubbed his ould poll, The proud and mighty Mars Has darts in her right eye, That is hit from that low-backed car. Has strings of ducks and geese, Well worth the cage, I do engage, Of the blooming god of love! And envy the chicken That Peggy is pickin' As she sits in the low-backed car. IRELAND'S WELCOME. AND Shamus, allhay, is it thrue, what they say, this news from the Parliament, That all of my boys, my sojer boys, back home are to be sent? Back home are to be sent, allhay, in shame and black disgrace, For having, inside their scarlet coats, the heart of their grand old race? CHORUS. From my heart I say, God bless this day, Without penny or pack to tack to your back, They'll be sorry and sore when you're not to the fore these dangerous coming years, And whin those bairns meet the foe, faith vic'tries will be scant, want. 88 THE LOW-BACKED CAR.-Continued. Oh, I'd rather own that car, sir, Than a coach-and-four and gold galore, For the lady would sit fornenst me With my arm around her waistWhile we drove in the low-backed car To be married by Father Maher. Oh, my heart would beat high At her glance and her sigh, Though it beat in a low-backed car! SKIBBEREEN. Он, divil a bit can I tell ye now What happened to me at the wake o' me cow; CHORUS. Wid their tearing, daring, cursing, swearing, Whisky, potatoes, och, wigs on the green, Whn Larry the spalpeen, an' Tim tuk the floor, I can't tell entoirely how that row was fixed, Oh, begorra, the shouting an' tearing around, Then they blazed at me windows an' stritched out me sow My head the next morning was just like a rattle, Tho' we said we weren't foighting, he'd take no denial. I'M PROUD I'M AN IRISHMAN'S SON. IF I was a son of old England I'd praise the dear land of my birth; If the mountains of Scotland had brought me to light CHORUS. So I'll think with a smile of the Emerald Isle, They may treat me with scorn and derision, When I think of the heroes old Ireland's produced, LOVE IN REALITY.-Continued. If I stood 'neath a torrent, or plung'd in the ocean, I'd come out rather chilly and not over dry; If robust health and strength can cause death, I've a notion I'm just in the very condition to die. I'm not swollen out with grief till a long rope won't bind me; My mouth is more moist than the touchwood, no doubt; And I'll give you my oath, that you never will find me Drinking dry a deep lake to extinguish my drought. I can tell night and day without making a blunder: A ship from a wherry, as well as the best; And I know white from black, which you'll say is a wonder, Despite all the love that is lodged in my breast. A mountain I never mistake for the ocean, A horse I can tell with great ease from a deer, Of great things and small I've an excellent TERENCE'S FAREWELL TO KATHLEEN. So, my Kathleen, you're going to leave me Full of illegant boys-oh, what then? Och, those English deceivers by nature, It's a folly to keep you from going, I forgot 'twixt the grief and the flurry, Can I talk if you bother me so? BRIDGET DONOHUE. My name is Barney Blake, I'm a tearing Irish rake, I was reared to the spade, but I learned the tailoring trade, I work in first-class shops; I make clothes for swells and fops; I love a colleen rhue called Bridget Donohue, CHORUS. Bridget Donohue, I've got my eye on you; If you only marry Barney, you'll have no cause to rue; You're the apple of my eye, I'm your Irish cockatoo; Mr. Cupid knocked me stupid for Bridget Donohue. At the wedding of Pat O'Hara I first met Bridget there, You would go from here to Spain to hear her sing "Napoleon's And at dancing she's got a lovely carriage. The other boys may try to put out Barney's eye, But soon they'll find it's nothing but a failure. She wouldn't see me fooled; she's as pure as guinea goold To her thumping, stumping, jumping Irish tailor.-CHORUS. IRISH COQUETRY.-Continued. "I gave it away to a good-lookin' boy, Who thinks there is no one like Biddy Malloy; So don't bother me, Pat; jist be aisy," says she. "Indade, if ye'll let me, I will that!" says he; "It's a bit of a flirt that ye are, on the sly; I'll not trouble ye more, but I'll bid ye goodby." "Arrah, Patrick," cries Biddy, "an' where are ye goin'? Sure it isn't the best of good manners ye're showin' To lave me so suddint!" "Och, Biddy," says Pat, "You have knocked the cock-feathers jist av me hat! out "Come back, Pat," says she. "What fur, thin? says he. "Bekase I meant you all the time, sir! says she. The honest poor man, what's delayin' him, why? Oh, the thrush might be dumb, and the lark cease to carol, Whin his music began to comether the sky. Three summers have gone since we've missed you, O'Farrell, 66 RORY O'MORE. YOUNG Rory O'More courted young Kathleen Bawn, He was bold as a hawk, and she soft as the dawn; He wished in his heart pretty Kathleen to please, And he thought the best way to do that was to tease. Now, Rory, be aisy," sweet Kathleen would cry, Reproof on her lips, but a smile in her eye; "With your tricks I don't know in troth what I'm aboutFaith! you've teased till I've put on my cloak inside out." "Oh, jewel," says Rory," that same is the way You've thrated my heart for this many a day; And 'tis plazed that I am, and why not, to be sure, For 'tis all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More. "Indeed, then," says Kathleen, "don't think of the like, For 1 half gave a promise to soothering Mike; The ground that i walk on he loves, I'll be bound ""Faith," says Rory, "I'd rather love you than the ground." Now, Rory, I'll cry if you don't let me go— Sure I dream every night that I'm hating you so." Oh!" says Rory, that same I'm delighted to hear, For dhrames always go by conthrairies, my dear; Oh! jewel, keep dreaming that same till you die, And bright morning will give dirty night the black lie. And 'tis plazed that I am, and why not, to be sure, Since 'tis all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More. "Arrah, Kathleen, my darlint, you've teased me enough, And I've thrashed for your sake Dinny Grimes and Jim Duff; And I've made myself, drinking your health, quite a baste, So, I think, after that, I may talk to the priest." Then Rory, the rogue, stole his arm round her neck, So soft and so white, without freckle or speck! And he looked in her eyes that were beaming with light; And he kissed her sweet lips-don't you think he was right? Now, Rory, leave off, sir-you'll hug me no more-tar-There's eight times to-day that you've kissed me before." Then here goes another," says he, to make sureFor there's luck in odd numbers," says Rory O'More. From the weddin' and patron, and fair on the green; In an hour to St. John we'll light up the barrel- But ourselves we're not flatter'n' that you'll be seen. thin O'Thady, we've watched and we've waited forever, To see your ould self steppin' into the town Wid your corduroys patched so clane and so clever, And the pride of a Guelph in your smile or your frown. Till some one used say, "Here's Thady O'Farrell;" And," God bless the good man! let's go meet him," we cried And wid this from their play, and wid that from their quarrel, All the little ones ran to be first at your side. Soon amongst us you'd stand, wid the ould people's blessin' As they lean'd from the door to look out at you pass; Wid the colleen's kiss-hand, and the childer's caressin', And the boys fightin' sure, which'd stand your first glass. Thin you'd give us the news out of Cork and Killarney Had O'Flynn married yet?-Was ould Mack still at work?— "SWEET Norah, come here, and look into the fire; lickin' runs, Where's the heel or the heart in the kingdom of Kerry Of the boys and the girls wasn't wid you at once? So you'd tune wid a sound that arose as delightin' As our old coleen's voice, so sweet and so clear, As she coyly wint round, wid a curtsy invitin' The best of the boys for the fun to prepare. For a minute or two, till the couples were ready, On your shoulder and chin the fiddle lay quiet; As our old colleen's voice, so sweet and so steady, And away we should spin to the left or the right! Thin how Micky Dease forged steps was a wonder, And well might our women of Roseen be proud Such a face, such a grace, and her darlin' feet under, Like two swallows skimmin' the skirts of a cloud! THE CALM AVONREE. BRIGHT home of my youth, my own sorrowing sireland, When I plucked the wild flow'rs on fair upland lea, Ah, me! could I fly o'er the dark, swelling ocean, Again would I hear the wild thrush in his bower, That shadows the clear-springing, sweet "Abbey well." Once more would I hear the wild cuckoo's notes swelling, Along the rich valley, o'er moorland and lea, And the blithe sparrow's chirp 'round my own peaceful dwelling, But the day may yet come when I'll see thee soft smiling, I I may yet live to see thro' thy narrow glens filing, The exiles now cast on a fair, foreign strand. may fight for thee, too, ere the trees again blossom, And see thee, my Erin, yet happy and free; And my heart may yet rest on thy soft, dewy bosom, In a green, grassy grave by the calm Avonree. KATIE O'RYAN. ON the banks of the Shannon, in darling old Ireland, She's a darling young creature and lovely in feature, CHORUS. She's the dear little shamrock, I'm constantly dreaming I now have rov'd far to a land call'd America, So far away from old Ireland, and Katie, from you. The spring will bring flow'rs and joy to my heart; The fields here are green as they are in old Ireland, And I'm thinking of none but you, darling, to-night. |