THE LAST OF THE HOGANS.
Copyright, 1891, by Wm. A. Pond & Co.
Words by Edward Harrigan. Music by Dave Braham.
Oh, list to the praise of an old family,
Historical Irish from Erin-go-bragh;
A world-renowned people, the men were manly,
And the girls were as fair as the pearl- of Asia.
I married my husband in sweet Knuckletown, sir,
A beautiful place in the county Mayo,
Where all his ancestors no more interest us.
For he was the last of the Hogans, you know.
Oh, Hughey, poor Hughey, won't come back to me,
he went for a sailor far over the sea;
I weep And I wail for the lost pedigree.
For he was the last of the Hogans, ho, hot
His great-great-grandfather, he fought in the war,
Remarkable soldier at our Waterloo;
A warrior bold, and the devil to snore,
Wid the blade of an axe all the foe men he slew.
At mowing the hay in, sure, he was the boy, sir,
A dozen of acres he cut wid a blow;
And all his descendants were never defendants,
For he was the first of the Hogans, you know. - Chorus.
His great-great-grandmother, she lived on the hill,
An illigant lady, with learning galore;
The fringe on her nightcap hung down in a frill,
Wid the gold of the foe from the foreigner's shore,
The troopers while marching would come to a halt, sir,
A thousand of bugles saluting, to show
That all her protectors would never neglect her,
But die for the first of the Hogans, ho, so!- Chorus.