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HIBERNIAN SONGSTER. |
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ST. KEVEN AND KING O'TOOL.
St. Keven was a traveling through a place called Glendalough, He chanced to meet with King O'Tool, and he axed him for a sleugh. Says the King, "You're but a stranger, for your face I have never seen, But if you have a taste of weed, I'll lend you my dudheen."
Fol de diddle di do. Keven the saint was kindling up the pipe, the monarch gave a sigh. "Is there anything the matter?" says the saint, "that makes you cry?" Says the king, "I had a gander, that was gave me by my mother, And this morning he has cracked his toes with some disease or other,"
Fol de diddle di do. "Are you crying for your gander, you unfortunate old goose. Dry up your tears, in fretting, sure, the divil take the use." Says the saint, "What would you give me, if the gander I'd revive?" Says the king, "I'd be your sarvent all the days that I'm alive."
Fol de diddle di do. "I'll cure him," says the saint, "but I want no sarvent man, But if I'd not make too bold to ax I'd like a bit of land. As you think so much about the bird, if I make him whole and sound. Will you give me the taste of land the gander does fly round?"
Fol de diddle di do. "In troth, I will, an' welcome," says the king, "give what you ask." Says the saint, "Then bring the gander, and I'll begin the task." The king went to the palace for to fetch him out the bird, Tho' he'd not the least intention of sticking to his word.
Fol de diddle di do. St. Keven took the gander from the arms of the old king, He first began to twig his beak, and then to stretch his wing, " He hooshed him up into the air, he flew twenty miles around, Says the saint, "I'd thank your Majisty for that little bit of ground."
Fol de diddle dl do. The king to raise a ruction, faith, he called the saint a witch, And sent In for his six big sons to heave him in the ditch. "Nabocklis," says St. Keven, "now I'll settle those young urchins," He turned the king and his six sons into the seven churches.
Fol de diddle di do. Thus King O'Tool was punished for his dishonest doings, The saint then left the gander to guard about the ruins. If you'd go there on a summer's day, between twelve and one o'clock, You'll see the gander flying round the glen of Glendalough.
Fol de diddle di do. Now I think there is a moral attached unto my song. To punish men is only right whenever they do wrong. For poor men they may keep their word much better than folks grander. For the king begrudged to pay the saint for curing his old gander.
Fol de diddle di do. |
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DESMOND'S SONG.
By the Feal's wave benighted, not- a star in the skies, To thy door by love lighted I first saw those eyes; Some voice whisper'd o'er me as thy threshold I cross'd, There was ruin before me, if I loved, I was lost. Love came and brought sorrow too soon in Its train; Yet so sweet that to-morrow 'twere welcome again; Tho' misery's full measure my portion should be, I would drain it with pleasure If pour'd out by thee. You who call It dishonor to bow to this flame, If you've eyes look but on her and blush while you blame; Hath the pearl less- whiteness because of Its birth? Hath the violet less brightness for growing near earth? No man for his glory to ancestry flies; But woman's bright story Is told In her eyes; While the monarch but traces thro' mortals his line. Beauty, born of the Graces, ranks next to divine! |
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