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404 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF
That my grandmother left me and she going to die; He was wholesome and sound, he would weigh twenty pound,
The universe round I would rove for his. sake— Bad wind to the robber—be he drunk or sober —
That murdered Nell Flaherty's beautiful drake.
His neck it was green—most rare to be seen,
He was fit for a queen of the highest degree; His body was white—and would you delight —
He was plump, fat and heavy, and brisk as a bee. The dear little fellow, his legs they were yellow,
He would fly like a swallow and dive like a hake, But some wicked savage, to grease his white cabbage,
Has murdered Nell Flaherty's beautiful drake.
May his pig never grunt, may his cat never hunt,
May a ghost ever haunt him at dead of the night; May his hen never lay, may his ass never bray,
May his goat fly away like an old paper kite. That the flies and the fleas may the wretch ever tease,
And the piercing north breeze make him shiver and shake, *
May a lump of a stick raise bumps fast and thick
On the monster that murdered Nell Flaherty's drake.
May his cradle ne'er rock, may his box have no lock,
May his wife have no frock for to cover her back; May his cock never crow, may his bellows ne'er blow;
And his pipe and his pot may he evermore lack. May his duck never quack, may his goose turn black,
And pull down his turf with her long yellow beak; May the plague grip the scamp, and his villainy stamp
On the monster that murdered Nell Flaherty's drake. |
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