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HYLAND'S MAMMOTH |
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He'd a blunderbuss, too; of horse pistols a pair;
But his favorite weapon was always a flail; I wish you could see how he'd empty a fair,
For he handled it neatly, did Larry M'Hale. His ancestors were kings, before Moses was born,
His mother descended from great Grana Ualle; He laughed all the Blakes and the Frenehs to scorn.
They were mushrooms compared to old Larry M'Hale'. He sat down every day to a beautiful dinner,
With cousins and uncles enough for a tail; And, though loaded with debt, O! the devil a thinner
Could law, or the sheriff, make Larry M'Hale. With a larder supplied, and a cellar well stored,
None lived half so well, from Fair-Head to Klnsale, As he piously said, "I've a plentiful board,
And the Lord he Is good to old Larry M'Hale." So fill up your glass, and a high bumper give blm;
It's little we'd care for the tithes or repale; For ould Erin would be a fine country to live in,
If we only had plenty, like Larry M'Hale. |
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THE BANSHEE.
The day was declining,
The dark night drew near, And the old Lord grew sadder,
And paler with fear. Come, listen, my daughter,
Come nearer—oh! near, It's the wind or the water
That sighs in my ear.
Not the wind nor the water
Now stlrr'd the night air, But a warning far sadder—
The banshee was there. Now rising, now swelling,
On the night wind it bore One cadence, still telling,
I want thee, Rossmore!
And then fast came his breath.
And more fix'd grew his eye, And the shadow of death
Told his hour was nigh. Ere the dawn of that morning
The struggle was o'er, For when thrice came the warning—
A corpse was Rossmore! |
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IT'S LITTLE FOR GLORY I CARE.
It's little for glory I care;
Sure, ambition Is only a fable; I'd as soon be mystlf as Lord Mayor,
With lashings of drink on the table. I like to lie down in the sun,
And drame when my faytures Is scorching, That when I'm too ould for more fun,
Why, I'll marry a wife with a fortune.
And, in winter, with bacon and eggs, And a place at the turf-fire basking,
Sip my punch, as I roasted iny legs, Oh! the devil a more I'd be asking.
For I haven't a janius for work-It was never the gift of the Bradys—
But I'd make a most illlgant Turk, For I'm fond of tobacco and ladies. |
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