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HYLAND'S MAMMOTH |
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Though my wallet was scant, I remember'd his case, Nor refused my last crust to his pitiful face, But he died at my feet on a cold winter day, And I play'd a lament for my poor dog Tray. Where now shall I go—poor, forsaken, and blind,— Can I find one to guide me so faithful and kind? To my sweet native village, so far, far away, I can never return with my poor dog Tray. |
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TERENCE'S FAREWELL.
So, my Kathleen, you're going to leave me
All alone by myself In this place; But I'm sure you will never deceive me,
O, no, if there's truth in that .face. Though England's a heautiful city
Full of llllgant boys. O what then, You wouldn't forget your poor Terence!
You'll come back to ould Ireland again. Oh, those English deceivers by nature.
Though maybe you'd think them sincere: They'll say you're a sweet charming creature,
But don't you believe them, my dear O, Kathleen, agrah! don't be minding
The flattering speeches they'd make; But tell them a poor lad in Ireland
Is breaking his heart for your sake. It's folly to keep you from going,
Though, faith, it's a mighty hard case; For, Kathleen, you know there's no knowing
When next I shall see your swate face. And when you come back -to me, Kathleen,
None the better will I be off then; You'll be speaking such beautiful English,
Sure I won't know my Kathleen again. Aye now, Where's the need of this hurry!
Don't flusther me so In this way; I forgot, 'twixt the grief and the flurry, „ Every word I was maning to say. Now Just wait a minute, 1 bid ye;
Can I talk if you bother me so?— Oh, Kathleen, my blessings go wid ye,
Every Inch of the way that you go. |
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I'M NOT MYSELF AT ALL.
Oh! I am not myself at all, Molly dear, Molly dear,
I am not myself at all. Nothing caring, nothing knowing, 'tis after you I'm going, Faith your shadow 'tis I'm growing, Molly dear, Molly dear,
And I'm not myself at all. Th' other day I went confessln', and I asked the father's blessin', "But," says I. "don't give me one entirely,
For I fretted so last year, but the half o' me is here, So give the other half to Molly Brlerly;
Oh! I'm not myself at all."
Oh! I'm not myself at all, Molly dear, Molly dear.
My appetite's so small, I once could pick a goose, but my buttons is no use. Faith my tightest coat is loose, Molly dear, Molly dear,
And I'm not myself at all. If thus It is I waste, you'd better, dear, make baste, Before your lover's gone away entirely,'
If you don't soon change your mind.
Not a bit o' me you'll find,' And what 'ud you think o' that, Molly Brlerly?
Oh! I'm not myself at all. , |
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