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10 HYLAND'S MAMMOTH |
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"Tour sweet self must iearn to ride, If you look to be the bride
Of an Irish hussar." The maiden made no more ado, But en croupe full Hghtly (lew— "And now, good steed, be true in love as you hav» bee» In war; Your soft arms round me throw. My own girl," he cried, "just so; Now, one kiss—and off you go—whoo!
Like an Irish hussar." |
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TWO HEADS ARE BETTER THAN ONE.
"Sure, Katty, you'd much better tarry,"
One day said my mother to me, "For you still over young are to marry.
My darling, to that you'll agree." "Oh! mother, your frown sorely tries me,
Why should I not do as you've done?" "Sure," said she, "I had none to advise me,
And two heads are better than one." Then who should I meet but dear Larry,
I told him the worst of my fears; "It's my mother that won't let me marry,"
Said I, nearly choked oy my tears: "Och! your mother's advice don't be dreading,
Sure, it's just the right thing to be done, For the best of all reasons for wedding
Is—that two heads are better than one." /
To my mother I went the next morning,
I blushed as I showed her .the ring, *'So it's all my advice you've been scorning!"
"Sure, mother, it's no such a thing." "Larry said that you never could scold me,
For but doing what others have done, And besides we've but proved what you told me,
That two heads are better than one!" |
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ADIEU! MY NATIVE LAND, ADIEU!
Adieu, my native land adieu,
The vessel spreads her swelling sails; Perhaps I never more may view
Your fertile fields, your flow'ry dales. Delusive hope can charm no more, * Far from the faithless maid I roam; ' Unfriended seek some foreign shore, Unpitied leave my native home.
Adieu, my native, &o.
Farewell, dear village, oh, farewell,
Soft on the gale thy murmur dies, I hear thy solemn evening bell,
Thy spires yet glad my acbing eyes. Though frequently falls the dazzling tear,
I scorn to shrink from fate's decree; And think not, cruel maid, that e'er
I'd heave another sigh for thee.
Adieu, my native, &c.
In vain through shades of frowning night,
Mine eyes thy rocky coast explore; Deep sinks the fiery orb of light,
I view thy beacon now no more.' Rise! billows, rise! blow, hollow winds!
Nor night, nor storms, nor death I fear; Unfriended bear me hence, to find,
The peace which fate denies me here. Adieu, my native, &c. |
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