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THE GAY LITTLE POSTMAN. 63
One evening, och ! surely Ould Nick wouldn't match her,
Returnin' home airly, I happened to catch her
Wid her arras round the neck of a tall sarjint-major—
Och, blur an' ouns, how I did feel! Of Judy's foul parjury I did remind her, And bundled the major quick out of the winder*,' Manewhile, like a furnace, or blazing-hot cinder,
Burnt poor Misther Barney O'Neil.
Next mornin' the major was kilt in a dhuel; Judy be wept him, and called the Fates cruel-Fell sick of a fever, and died of hot gruel—
Death quieted Misthress O'Neil. I miss her, because she no longer can taize me; No longer I roam like a man that is crazy, So the rest of me life I'll spind parfectly aisy,
Will Bachelor Barney O'Neil.
THE GAY LITTLE POSTMAN.
An Old-Style Comic Song.
As sung by all the comic vocalists.
But a short way up-town, though I mustn't tell where, A shoemaker married a maiden so fair, Who a month after wedlock, 'tis truth I declare, Fell in love with a gay little postman.
Her person was thin, genteel, and tall, Her carroty hair did in ringlets fall; And while the cobbler worked hard at his stall, She was watching this gay little postman.
He was just four feet six in height, But a well-made figure to the sight; He walked like a monument bolt upright— Mr. Walker, the gay little postman.