American Old Time Song Lyrics: 51 The Battle Of Limerick
Theater, Music-Hall, Nostalgic, Irish & Historic Old Songs, Volume 51
THE BATTLE OF LIMERICK
Te Genii of the nation,
Who look with veneration,
And Ireland's desolation onsaysingly deplore;
Ye sons of General Jackson,
Who thrample on the Saxon,
Attend to the thransacuon upon Shannon shore.
When William, Duke of Schnmbng,
A tyrant and a humbug,
With cannon and with thunder on our city bore,
Our fortitude and valliance
Insthructed his battalions
To rispict the galliam Irish-upon Shannon shore.
Since that capitulation
No city in this nation
So grand a reputation could boast before,
As Limerick prodigious,
That stands with quays and bridges,
And ships up to the windies of the Shannon shore.
A chief of ancient line,
'Tis William Smith O'Brine
Reprisints this darling Limerick, this ten years or more?
O the Saxons can't endure
To see him on the flure,
And thrimble at the Cicero from Shannon shore!
This valliant son of Mars
Had been to vis t Par's.
That land of Revolution, that grows the tricolor;
And to welcome his return
From pilgrimages furren,
We invited him to day on the Shannon shore.
Then we summoned to our board
Young Meagher of the sword;
'Tis he will sheathe that battle-axe in Saxon gore;
And Mitchil of Belfast
We bade to our repast,
To dthrink a dish of coffee on the Shannon shore.
Convaniently to hould
These patriots so bould.
We took the opportunity of Tim Doolan's store;
And with ornamints and banners
(As becomes gintale good manners)
We made the loveliest day-room upon Shannon shore.
'Twould binifit your sowls
To see the butthered rowls,
The sugar-tongs and sangwidges and craim galyore,
And the muffins and the crumpets,
And the band of harps and thrumpets,
To celebrate the sworry upon Shannon shore.
Sure the Imperor of Bohay
Would be proud to dthrlnk the lay
That Misthress Biddy Rooney for O'Brine did pour;
And, since the days of Strongbow,
There never was such Congo-
Mitchel dthrank six quarts of it-by Shannon shore.
But Clarndon and Corry
Connellian beheld this sworry
With raise and imulation in their black hearts' core;
And they hired a gang of ruffins
To interrupt the muffins,
And the fragrance of the Congo on the Shanuon shore.
When full of day and cake
O'Brine began to spake;
But juice a one could hear him, for a sudden roar
Of a ragamuffin rout
Began to yell and shout,
And frighten the propriety of Shannon shore.
As Smith O'Brine harangued,
They batthered and they banged;
Tim Doolan's doors and windies down they tore;
They smashed the lovely windies
(Hung with muslin from the Indies),
Purshuing of their shindies upon Shannon shore.
With throwing of brickbats,
Drowned puppies and dead rats,
These ruffin democrats themselves did lower;
Tin kettles, rotten eggs,
Cabbage stalks, And wooden legs,
They flung among the patriots of Shannon shore.
O the girls began to scrame,
And upset the milk and crame;
And the honorable gintlemin, they cursed and swore;
And Mitchil of Belfast,
'Twas he that looked aghast,
When they roasted him in effigy by Shannon shore.
O the lovely day was spilt
On that day of Ireland's guilt;
Says Jack Mitchil, "I am kilt! Boys, where's the back door?
'Tis a national disgrace:
Let me go and veil me face":
And he boulted with quick pace from the Shannon shore.
"Cut down the bloody horde!"
Says Meagher of the sword:
"This conduct would disgrace any blackamore";
But the best use Tommy made
Of his famous battle-blade
Was to cut his own stick from the Shannon shore.
Immortal Smith O'Brine
Was raging like a line;
'Twould have done your sowl good to have heard him roar;
In his glory he arose,
And he rushed upon his foes;
But they bit him on the nose by the Shannon shore.
Then the Futt and Dthragoons
In squadthrons and platoons,
With their music playing chunes, down upon as bore;
And they bate the rattatoo.
But the Peelers came in view,
And ended the shaloo on the Shannon shore.