'Tis just beginning to rain, So I'll get under cover; You'll be Mrs. Brallaghan; Don't say nay, Charming Judy Callaghan. Francis Sylvester Mahony [1804-1866] From the minister down To the Clerk of the Crown, All were courting the Widow Malone, All were courting the Widow Malone. Till one Mister O'Brien from Clare, How quare! It's little for blushing they care Down there Put his arm round her waist, Took ten kisses at laste "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! For why? Ne'er thought of a simper or sigh But, "Lucius," says she, "Since you've now made so free, You may marry your Molly Malone." Not wrong; And, one comfort, it's not very long, If for widows you die, Learn to kiss, not to sigh, But strong: For they're all like sweet Mistress Malone, Ohone! Oh! they're very like Mistress Malone! Charles James Lever [1806-1872] WIDOW MACHREE From "Handy Andy" WIDOW MACHREE, it's no wonder you frown, Och hone! Widow Machree, Faith, it ruins your looks, that same dirty black gown, Och hone! Widow Machree. How altered your air, With that close cap you wear— 'Tis destroying your hair Which should be flowing free; Be no longer a churl Of its black silken curl, Och hone! Widow Machree! Widow Machree, now the summer is come, Och hone! Widow Machree, When everything smiles, should a beauty look glum? * Och hone! Widow Machree. See, the birds go in pairs, And the rabbits and hares, Why, even the bears Now in couples agree; And the mute little fish, Though they can't spake, they wish,— Widow Machree, and when winter comes in, To be poking the fire all alone is a sin, Och hone! Widow Machree. Sure the shovel and tongs To each other belongs, And the kettle sings songs Full of family glee; While alone with your cup, Like a hermit, you sup, Och hone! Widow Machree. And how do you know, with the comforts I've towld, Och hone! Widow Machree, But you're keeping some poor fellow out in the cowld?' Och hone! Widow Machree. With such sins on your head Sure your peace would be fled, Could you sleep in your bed Without thinking to see Some ghost or some sprite, That would wake you each night, Crying, "Och hone! Widow Machree"? Then take my advice, darling Widow Machree, Och hone! Widow Machree, And, with my advice, faith, I wish you'd take me, You'd have me to desire Then to stir up the fire, And sure Hope is no liar That the ghosts would depart, Och hone! Widow Machree! Samuel Lover [1797-1868] THE PEACEABLE RACE "WHO says that the Irish are fighters be birth?" Says little Dan Crone. "Faix, there's not a more peaceable race on th' earth, If ye l'ave 'em alone. "Tim O'Toole? Well, I grant ye now, there is a lad Now, I ask ye, suppose ye was sturdy as Tim, Don't ye think 'twould be right ye should take a delight In defindin' yer title an' testin' yer might?" Says little Dan Crone. "Is it me? Arrah! now it is jokin' ye are. But I bid ye be careful an' not go too far. Shure, it's true I'm no more nor the height o' yer waist, But there's many a bigger has sampled a taste O' the knuckles that's bunched in this little ould fisht. Where's the dog wouldn't fight whin his tail gets a twisht? Do I hunt fur the throuble? Mayhap, now, it's thrue Upon certain occasions that's jisht what I do. Shure, how else would they know-I'm that stunted an' small I'd the heart of a man in me body at all?" Says little Dan Crone. "Well, thin, keep yer opinion. 'Tis little it's worth," Says little Dan Crone. "Faix, we're jisht the most peaceable race on the earth, If ye l'ave us alone." Thomas Augustin Daly [1871 THE RECRUIT SEZ Corporal Madden to Private McFadden: "Bedad, yer a bad 'un! Now turn out yer toes! Yer cap is on crookit, Ye may not be dhrunk, Wan-two! Wan-two! Ye monkey-faced divil, I'll jolly ye through! Ye march like the aigle in Cintheral Parrk!" Sez Corporal Madden to Private McFadden: "A saint it ud sadden To dhrill such a mug! Eyes front!-ye baboon, ye! Chin up!-ye gossoon, ye! Ye've jaws like a goat Halt! ye leather-lipped loon, ye! Wan-two! |