FLAMING O'FLANAGANS.-Continued. The tazing, the cursing, the shouting, the shooting, Wid Irish Miss Murphys and English Miss Bulls. 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; Do you see how I'm laughed at by all those queer vagabones, MOLLY MULDOON. 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', There's Shusey Magee, drinks her tay out of chaney, An', troth, if I liked-no, I needn't say more. An' the music you'd make wid your noggin' an' spoon, Would be sweeter to me if I slept in the ditches, 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; For I know in your heart there's a spark for me burnin', "Tis a fortnight to Lent, an' you'll never repent, 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, Shall above us be in triumph seen; Oh! think on its glory, long shrined in story, Charged with Eoghan for our flag of green! 'Twas a cold winter's night, and the tempest was snarlin', The snow, like a sheet, covered cabin and stye, When Barney flew over the hills to his darlin', And tapped at the window where Katty did lie. "Arrah! jewel," said he, "are ye sleepin' or wakin' ? The night's bitter cold, an' my coat it is thin; Oh! the storm 'tis a brewin', the frost it is bakin', Oh! Katty Avourneen, you must let me in." No, Barney Avourneen, I won't let you in." "Ah! cushla," cried he, "it's my heart is a fountain That weeps at the wrong it might lay at your door; Your name is more white than the snow on the mountain, And Barney would die to preserve it as pure. I'll go to my home, though the winter winds face me, I'll whistle them off, for I'm happy within; An' the words of my Kathleen will comfort | and bless me; 'Oh! Barney Avourneen, I won't let you in.'" O'DONNELL ABU. PROUDLY the note of the trumpet is sounding, On, every mountaineer, Rush to the standard of dauntless Red Bonnought and Gallowglass, Throng from each mountain pass, On for old Erin-O'Donnell abu! Princely O'Neill to our aid is advancing With many a chieftain and warrior-clan; A thousand proud steeds in his vanguard are prancing 'Neath the borders brave from the banks of Many a heart shall quail Deeply the merciless tyrants shall rue; Borne on the breeze's wing, Grasp, every stalwart hand, Hackbut and battle-brand, 99 Well, we meets Danny Looran, and says to him: "Danny, When they'd done with each other, they sat down to rest, And they met Larry Moore walking calm and serene; Well, they got in a tangle and hit right and left, And Michael from both of them made the blood pour! But they wouldn't let go, so they all went together, Now some more sons of Erin were fighting for freedom, Pay them all back the deep debt so long But they oon fished 'em out, and for love of Home Rule, boys, due; Norris and Clifford well Can of Tir-Conaill tell Onward to glory—O'Donnell abu! Sacred the cause that Clan-Conaill's defending, Ruthless the ruin the foe is extending, Fight the old fight again, They gave 'em a thrashin' before they were dry! And they murdered the keeper and smoked his tobaccy, They'd just one more scrimmage before they wor partin', Sons of Tir-Conaill, all valiant and true; Danny Looran forgot where he left his right eyeball, Make the false Saxon feel Erin's avenging steel, Strike for your country-O'Donnell abu! And Larry Moore's face wasn't fit to be seen, And Mickey wor tired, and wouldn't go walking, So rode home on a shutter for ould Ireland so green.-CHORUS. BILLY O'ROURKE. FAITH! I greased my brogues and took my stick the twentieth day of May, sirs, Then off to Dublin town I tripped to walk upon the sea, sirs; CHORUS. With my phillaloo and heart so true, Arrah! Billy O'Rourke's the boy, sirs. I gave the Captain six thirteens to carry me o'er to Porgate, But before we got half o'er the road the wind it blew at a hard rate; The sticks that grew up through the ship they sang out like a whistle, And the sailors all, both great and small, they swore we's going to the devil. The ship she sang us all to sleep till they came to the place of landing, And those that were most fatigued, the sails ere out a-handing; They looked so smart they won my heart-says I: You fools of riches, Although you've no tails to your coats you've money in your breeches. I met an honest gentleman a-traveling the road sirs, Good morning, says I, pray how do you do? but he proved a mighty rogue, sirs; For, at the corner of a lane a pistol he pulled out, sirs, And he rammed the muzzle, arrah, what a shame, into my very mouth, sirs. Your money, blast your Irish eyes! arrah! be merciful, cried I, sirs, He swore my brains he would blow out if I should bawl or cry, sirs; He leveled fair just for my sconce, three steps I did retire, sirs, His pan it flashed and his head I smashed-my shillelah don't miss fire, sir. A widow next did me employ all for to cut and thrash, sirs, Bid her good morning, Madam, says I, I think you'll have use for your cradle! PADDY MILES. FROM the big town of Limerick lately I came, I left Ireland solely bekase of my name; For if anything wint wrong, or a mischief 'twas done, Shure they'd lave all the blame on my mother's own son. So my name now is Paddy O'Connor, 'Pon an Irishman's thrue word and honor; Oh, misfortune my curse light upon her, 'Twas she christened me Paddy Miles. If a windy was broke, or a house robbed of tiles, And you'd ax who done that, shure they d say Paddy Miles; Who was it set fire to his reverence's wig? And cut the tail off Pat Flanigan's pig? Who was it called Mishes Muloney a scollup? And gave Paddy McGee's cat the jallop? Some blackguards would hit me a wallop PADDY MAGEE'S DREAM. JOHN BULL he was an Englishman, He tramped along for miles and miles, Till he fell in with an rishman, Whose name was Paddy Magee. Good morning, Pat, said John to him, Says Paddy: I hardly know myself, Have you got any money about you? Says Pat: It's the only thing I'm wanting, For I haven't got a rap. Then they overtook a Scotchman, Who, like them, was out of work; Can you lend me a shilling, Scotty? Said the Englishman, I three-pence have, Just buy three-pence worth of oat-meal, Now I think we had better buy a loaf, Our hunger sleep away. From yonder purling stream, And the loaf shall be his in the morning, Who has the greatest dream. The Englishman dreamt by the morning, For ten years digging a turnip up, At last they got the turnip up, This turnip to pull away. Said the Scotchman: I've been dreaming For fifty years making a boiler, The largest ever seen. What was it for? said the Englishman, It was made of copper, said Scotty, Och! said Paddy, I've been dreaming I dreamt I was in a hay-stack, I dreamt that you and Scotty was there, As true as I'm an oaf; By the powers! I dreamt I was hungry, PADDV MILES.-Contiuued. I worked in the bogs and behaved, as I thought, Who cut off one of the tails of Pat Flanigan's coat? And drank all the wine, blood and ounds, what a sin! When Miss Fagan, they tried to eject her? 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, In short, before long to this country I came, If my name wasn't changed I was likely to starve, So Paddy O'Connor it is made, sir, THE EXILES OF ERIN. GREEN were the fields where my forefathers dwelt, O! Erin, mavourneen! slan leat go brah! With what grief I beheld my cot burned to the ground, I look back with regret, and my heart strings are torn, O! Erin, mavourneen! slan leat go brah! With principles pure, patriotic and firm, O! 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; But hark! I hear sounds, and my heart is strong beating, We have numbers, and numbers do constitute pow'r- THE GATHERING OF THE MAHONYS. JERRY MAHONY, arrah, my jewel! come let us be off to the fair, For the Donovans all in their glory most certainly 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 mountainlast 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! And Tim, who'd served in the militia, has his bayonet 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. LANIGAN'S BALL.-Continued. Myself, of course, got free invitations For all the nice boys and girls I'd ask, And in less than a minute the friends and relations Were dancing away like bees round a cask. Miss O'Hara, the nice little milliner, Tipped me the wink to give her a call, And soon I arrived with Timothy Glenniher Just in time for Lanigan's ball. There was lashins of punch and wine for the ladies, Potatoes and cakes and bacon and tay, The Nolans and Doolans and all the O'Gradys Were courtin' the girls and dancin' away. Songs there were as plenty as water, From "The Harp that once thro' Tara's ould Hall," To "Sweet Nelly Gray and "The Ratcatcher's Daughter," All singing together at Lanigan's ball. They were startin' all sorts of nonsensical dances. Turning around in a nate whirligig; But Julia and I soon scatthered their fancies, And tipped them the twist of a rale Irish jig. Och mavrone! 'twas she that as glad o' me; We danced till we thought the ceilin' would fall (For I spent three weeks in Burke's Academy Learning a step for Lanigan's ball). The boys were all merry, the girls were all hearty, Dancin' away in couples and groups, When an accident happened-young Terence McCarty He put his right foot through Miss Halloran's hoops. The creature she fainted, and cried "Millia murther!" She called all her friends and gathered them all. Ned Carmody swore he'd not stir a step further, But have satisfaction at Lanigan's ball. In the midst of the row Miss Kerrigan fainted Her cheeks all the while were as red as the rose Some of the ladies declared she was painted, She took a small drop of potheen, I suppose. Her lover, Ned Morgan, so pow'rful and able, When he saw his dear colleen stretched out by the wall, He tore the left leg from under the table And smashed all the china at Lanigan's ball. Oh, boys, there was the ructions Myself got a lick trom big Phelim McHugh, But I soon replied to his kind introductions, And kicked up a terrible hullabaloo. Old Shamus the piper had like to be strangled, They squeezed up his pipes, bellows, chanters and all; The girls in their ribbons they all got entangled, And that put an end to Lanigan's ball. |