UC-NRLF
SB 27 372
FLYING
CLOUD
And 150 Other Old Time
Poems and Ballads
Jl Collection of UL irish Sor^s, Songs of
the Sea anJQi eat Lafcs, The //? Pine Woods,
The Prize Ring and Others.
Compiled by
M. C. bAN
Virginia, Minnesota
FLYING CLOUD
And One Hundred and Fifty other Old Time Songs
and Ballads of Outdoor Men, Sailors, Lumber
Jacks, Soldiers, Men of the Great Lakes,
Railroadmen, Miners, etc.
Compiled by
M. C. DEAN
THE QUICKPRINT
VIRGINIA. MINNESOTA
name is
FLYING CLOUD.
name is Willie Hollander, as you may understand,
I was born in tlie County Waterford in Erin's happy land;
When I was young and in my prime, then beauty on me smiled,
parents doted on me, I being their only child.
My father bound me to a trade in Waterford ? s fair town,
He bound me to a cooper there by the name of Willie Brown;
I served my master faithfully for eighteen months or more,
Then I, shipped on board of the ''Ocean Queen, bound for
Bellefresiers shore.
d when we reached Belief reisers shore I met with Captain
Moore,
The captain of the Flying Cloud, that sails from Baltimore;
He asked me if I would sail with him on a slaving voyage to go,
To the burning shores of Africa where the coffee seeds do grow.
The Flying Cloud was a clipper ship of five hundred tons or
more,
She could easy sail 'round anything' going out of Baltimore.
Her sails were as white as the driven snow and on them there's
no speck.
And forty-nine brass pounder guns she carried on her deck.
The Flying Cloud was as fine a ship as ever sailed the seas,
Or ever spread a main topsail before a freshening breeze;
I have oft times seen that gallant bark with ^the wind abaft
her beam,
With her main top Royal and stun sails set taking sixteen
from the reel.
The first place that we landed 'twas on the African shore,
And five hundred of those poor slaves from their native land
we bore;
marched them out upon our plank and stowed them down
below,
It was eighteen inches to the man was all that there was to go.
Early next morning we set sail with our cargo of slaves,
It would have been better for those poor souls if they'd been
in their graves;
the plague and fever came on board, swept half their num-
ber away,
And we dragged their bodies on the deck 'and threw them in
the sea.
In the course of three weeks after we arrived on Cuba's shore,
We sold them to the planters there, to be slaves for evermore;
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Tiie" rice and coffee seeds to sow beneath the burning sun,
To lead a hard and wretched life until their career was run.
And now our money is all spent and we are off to sea again,
When Captain Moore he came on board and said to us his men :
"There is gold and silver to be had if with me you'll remain,
"We'll hoist aloft a pirate flag and scour the Spanish Main."
"We all agreed but five young lads who told us them to land,
Two of those were Boston boys, two more from Newfoundland ;
And the other was an Irish lad belonging to Trimore,
I wish to God I had joined those boys and went with them
on shore.
We sank and plundered many a ship down on the Spanish Main,
Left many a widow and orphan child in sorrow to remain;
We made them w r alk out on our plank, gave to them a watery
grave,
For a saying of our captain was that a dead man tells no tales.
Pursued w r e were by many ships, both 'frigates and liners, too,
But for to catch the Flying Cloud was a thing they ne'er
could do;
It was all in vain astern of us their cannons roared so loud,
It was all in vain to ever try for to catch the Flying Cloud.
Till a Spanish ship, a man-of-war, the Dungeon, hove in view,
And fired a shot across our boys as a signal to heave to ;
We gave to her no answer, but sailed before the wind,
Until a chain shot broke our mizzen mast and then we fell
behind.
We cleared our deck for action as_she came up 'longside,
And soon from off our quarter decks there ran a crimson tide ;
We fought till Captain Moore was killed, and eighty of his men,
When a bomb shell set our ship on fire, we were forced to sur-
render then.
Now 7 fare you well, you shady groves and the girl that I do adore,
Your voice like music soft and sweet will never cheer me more ;
No more will I kiss those ruby lips or clasp that silk-soft hand.
For here I must die a shameful death out in some foreign land.
It was next to New Gate I was brought, bound down in iron
chains,
For the plundering of ships at sea down on the Spanish Main ;
It was drinking and bad company that made a wretch of me,
So youths beware of nay ad fate and my curse on Piracy.
LULUAXXA.
I know a little cot as humble as can be,
It stands on the banks of the Susqnehanna,
Where the wild flowers bloom and the humming 1 birds play,
Oh, there lives my sweet Lulu anna.
Chorus
She is fair as the dawn, as mild as the eve.
And as graceful as the bold Susqiiehamia :
She is my ideal, an Angel of the earth.
The idol of my heart is Luluanna.
If I were a fish I would swim by her side,
he sails 011 the bold Susqnehanna;
I would dream of her by night, I 'd think of her by day,
Till I won the heart of Luluanna.
PATRICK SHBEHAX.
My name is Patrick Sheehan, my years are thirty-four,
1 was born in Tipperary, not far from Galtimore ;
I came of honest parents, but now they are lying low.
And it's many the happy days I spent in the glens of Aherloe.
father died, I closed his eves outside our cabin door,
The landlord and the sheriff, too, were there the day before;
It was then my poor old mother and sisters, two, also,
"With broken hearts were forced to leave the glens of Aherloe.
Then for three months in search of work I rambled far and near,
Then I went unto the poor house to see my mother dear;
The news I heard nigh broke my heart, but yet in all my woe,
I blest the friends that made their graves in the' glens of Aherloe.
Bereft of home, of kith and kin, and plenty all around.
I starved within my cabin and slept upon the ground;
ruel as my lot it was, I ne'er did hardships know.
Until I joined the English army far away from Aherloe.
"Get up, you lazy Irish dog," the corporal he came around,
" Don't you hear the bugle, the called to arms, sound. 1 "
Alas, I had been dreaming of days long, long ago.
And I woke before Sebastapool, and not in Aherloe.
I groped for my musket, how dark I thought the night 1
Oh, blessed God, it was not dark, it was the broad daylight;
And when I found that I was blind, the tears they down did flow
And I longed for even a pauper's grave in the glens of Aherloe.
Now a poor, forlorn mendicant, I wander through the streets,
My nine months' pension being out, I beg from all I meet;
But since I joined my country's tyrants my face I ne'er will
show
To the kind and loving neighbors in the glens of Aherloe.
Oh, Blessed Virgin Mary, mine is a mournful tale,
A poor blind prisoner here I lie in Dublin's dreary jail;
Struck blind within the trenches where I never feared the foe,
But now I never more will see my own sweet Aherloe.
Now. youths and fellow countrymen, take heed to what I say.
Don't ever join the English ranks or you'll surely rue tlie day ,
And if ever you are tempted a-soldiering to go,
Remember poor blind Sheehan and the glens of Aherloe.
MORRISY AND THE RUSSIAN SAILOR.
Come, all you sons of- Erin, attention now I crave,
While I relate the praises of an Irish hero brave ;
Concerning a great fight, me boys, all on the other day,
Between a Russian sailor and bold Jack Morrisy.
It was in Tierra Del Fuego, in South America,
The Russian challenged Morrisy and unto him did say,
"I hear you are a fighting man and wear a belt, I see;
"What do you say, will you consent to have a round with me?"'
Then up spoke bold Jack Morrisy, with a heart so stout and true,
Saying, "I am a gallant Irishman that never was subdued;
Oh, I can whale a Yankee, a Saxon bull or bear,
And in honor of old Paddy's land I'll still those laurels wear.
These words enraged the 'Russian upon that foreign land,
To think that he would be put down by any Irishman;
He says, "You are too light for me, on that make no mistake,
I would have you to resign the belt, or else your life I '11 take. ' '
To fight upon the tenth of June those heroes did agree,
And thousands came from every part the battle for to see;
The English and the Russians, their hearts were filled with glee,
They swore the Raissian sailor boy would kill bold Morrisy.
They both stripped off, stepped in the ring, most* glorious to
be seen,
And Morrisy put on the belt, bound 'round with shamrocks,
green,
Full twenty thousand dollars, as you may plainly see,
Tkat was to be the champion's prize that gained the rictory.
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\
They both shook hands, walked 'round the ring commencing
then to fight,
It filled each Irish heart with joy for to behold the sight;
The Russian he floored Morrisy up to the eleventh round,
With English, Russian and Saxon cheers the valley did resound.
A minute and a half our hero lay before he could rise,
The word went all about the field, "He's dead!" were all
their cries;
But Morrisy worked manfully and, raising from the ground,
From that until the twentieth the Russian he put down.
Up to the thirty-seventh round 'twas fall and fall about,
Which made the burly sailor to keep a sharp look-out;
The Russian called his second and asked for a .glass of wine,
Our Irish hero smiled and said, "This battle will be mine."
The thirty-eighth decided all, the Russian felt the smart,
When Morrisy. with a fearful blow, he struck him o'er the heart,
A doctor he was called oil to open up a vein,
He said it was quite useless, he would never fight again.
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Our hero conquered Thompson, the Yankee clipper, too,
The Benicia boy and Sheppard he nobly did subdue;
So let us fill a flowing bowl and drink a health galore
To brave Jack Morrisy and Paddies evermore.
THE DYING SOLDIER.
Oh, the moon looked down from an azure sky,
When the deadly fight was o'er.
On the battle field where the ))rave laid low,
Whom life could claim no more:
And her pale light cast on the damp, cold earth,
Where a wounded soldier lay,
O'er whose face there crept the shade of cVeath.
As his life's blood ebbed away.
The dying soldier raised his ha*nd,
And gently brushed aside
The -raven locks that his heart's blood
To crimson red had dyed;
Then faintly, lowly, comrade said,
"Not long on earth's my stay,'
Xo more I'll roam in my childhood's home,
In old Erin far away. *
"But a lock of hair I pray you bear
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My mother o'er the sea,
So that when upon it she may look,
She'll kindly think of me;
And tell her though mid India's sands,
My mouldering dust may lay,
My heart is still in Erin,
Old Erin, far away.
1 ' Tell my sister, though long years have passed
Since I saw her smiling face,
That her form's still present to my mind,
Each feature I can trace;
And at this, my last and dying hour,
My wandering thoughts they stray
To those grassy glades where oft we played,
In old Erin far away.
"Tell my brothers that I nobly fought,
And as our father died,
With my bayonet charging on the foe,
And sabi by my side;
It nerved my heart to conquer,
And the Sepoy foe to slay,
As visions bright came o'er my sight
Of old Erin far away.
' 'Tell the friends with whom in childhood
I played 'round the old oak tree,
That my last breath blest them dying,
In n land far o 'er the sea ;
And tell them that I bled and fought,
; On this eventful day,
For Britania's honor, Britania's Queen,
And old Erin far away."
His voice grew low and Aveaker,
And slowly sank his head,
His comrade stooped to raise him,
But the spark of life had fled;
A -frrave was made in which he was laid,
Ere closed the waning da} r ,
Far from those haunts he loved so well,
In old Erin far awav.
AN*D THEY CALLED IT IRELAND.
Did you ever hear the story of how Ireland got its name?
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I'll tell you so you'll understand from whence ould Ireland
came.
No wonder we are proud of that dear land across the sea,
For this is how my good ould mother tould the tale to me :
Sure, a little drop of Heaven fell from out the sky one day,
And it settled on the ocean in a spot so far away,
And when the angels found it, it looked so sweet and fair,
They said, "Suppose we leave it, for it seems so peaceful there."
And they showered dew upon it just to see the shamrocks grow,
It's the only place you'll find them, no matter where you go;
Then they sprinkled it with star dust, just to make her lakes
so grand,
And when they had it finished, they railed it Ireland.
It's the Home of the Shillalah and the wondrous wishing well,
And there's not a spot on God's green earth where there's such
lakes and dells.
No wander that the angels loved her Shamrock-bordered shore,
It's a little drop of Heaven, and I love it more and more.
PATRICK RILEY.
My name is Patrick Riley, the truth I will make known,
And I was born near Clou is, in the County of Tyronne;
My parents reared me tenderly, they had no child but me,
And with them I lived contented till the age of twenty-three.
It was then I took a notion to cross the raging sea,
In search of some promotion unto America:
To seek employment in that land, a fortune to obtain,
And when I had secured it, to return straight home again.
Alas, I had a sweetheart. Jane Wilson was her name,
And when she heard I was going away, straightway to me she
came.
And she said, "Can it be possible that you will prove so unkind,
As to go away and leave me broken-hearted here behind?"
x 'Dear Jane," said I, "be not afraid; it's you I do adore,
My daily thoughts will be of you while on Columbia's shore,
And when I do return again, if God spares me my life,
Here is my hand in promise that I'll make you my wife."
With this she seemed quite reconciled and home straightway
she went,
And down to Justice Harrington the very next day she went,
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And she swore I had ill-used her, had treated her shamefully,
I had robbed, her of her virgin bloom which proved her destiny.'
I soon was apprehended, as you may understand,
And they marched me off to Liffy jail at the Magistrate's
command ;
It's there I lay in irons until my trial day,
Oh, little did I ever think she'd swear my life away.
On the twenty-first day of July my trial it came on,
This maid, being void of Scripture, before the judge. did stand,
And she swore I had waylaid her and robbed her of five pound,
And tried to force her in a pool where she soon would have been
drowned.
The judge then charged the jury with words that were severe,
Saying, "This maid must now be rightified for all she's had
' to bear."
The jury gave their verdict, aloud the judge did cry,
"For your cruelty unto this maid, young Riley, you must die."
When I received my sentence my eyes with tears did flow,
The thoughts of leaving my mother in sorrow, grief and woe;
She being so far advanced in years and had no child but me,
How could she bear to see me hang upon the gallows tree?
And now as I'm about to meet my God, all on this very day,
I never injured that fair false one that swore my life away;
The time is fast approaching, I have no more to say,
May the Lord receive my soul with joy; good people, for me
pray.
THE ARKANSAW NAVVY.
Come listen to my story and I'll tell you in my chant
It's the lamentation of an Irish emigrant,
Who lately crossed the ocean and misfortune never saw,
'Till he worked upon the railroad in the State of Arkansaw.
When I landed in St. Louis I'd ten dollars and no more,
I read the daily papers until both me eyes were sore ;
I was looking for advertisements until at length I saw
Five hundred men were wanted in the State of Arkansaw.
Oil, how me heart it bounded when I read the joyful news,
Straightway then I started for the* raging Billie Hughes ;
Says he, ' ' Hand me five dollars and a ticket you will draw
That will take you to the railroad in the State of Arkansaw.
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I handed him the money, but it gave me soul a shock,
And soon was safely landed in the city of Little Rock ;
There was not a man in all that land that would extend to me
his paw.
And say, ''You're heartily welcome to the State of Arkansaw."
I wandered 'round the depot, I rambled up and down,
I fell in with a man catcher and he said his name was Brown;
He says, "You are a stranger and you're looking rather raw,
On yonder hill is me big hotel, it's the best in Arkansaw."
Then I followed my conductor up to the very place,
Where poverty was depicted in his dirty, brockey face;
His bread was corn dodger and his mate I couldn't chaw,
And fifty cents he charged for it in the State of Arkansaw.
Then I shouldered up my turkey, hungry as a shark,
Traveling along the road that leads to the Ozarks ;
It would melt your heart with pity as I trudged along the track,
To see those dirty bummers with their turkeys on their backs.
Such sights of dirty bummers I'm sure you never saw
As worked upon the railroad in the State of Arkansaw.
I am sick and tired of railroading and I think I'll give it o'er,
I'll lay the pick and shovel down and I'll railroad no more;
I'll go out in the Indian nation and I'll marry me there a squaw,
And I'll bid adieu to railroading and the State of Arkansaw.
IRELAND MUST BE HEAVEN, FOR MY MOTHER
CAME FROM THERE.
I've often heard my daddy speak of Ireland's lakes and dells,
The place m.ust be like Heaven, if it's half like what he tells;
There's roses fair and shamrocks there, and laughing waters
flow;
I've never seen that Isle of Green, but there's one thing sure,
I know
Refrain
Ireland must be Heaven, for an angel came from there,
I never knew a living soul one-half as sweet or fair,
For her eyes are like the star-light, and the white clouds match
her hair ;
Sure. Ireland must be Heaven, for my mother came from there.
I've pictured in my fondest dreams old Ireland's vales and rills,
I see a stairway to the sky, formed by her verdant hills;
Each wave that's in the ocean blue just loves to hug the store,
So if Ireland isn't Heaven, then sure, it must be right next door.
THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND.
My parents reared me tenderly, they had 110 child but me,
My mind being bent on rambling, with them could not a
So soon became a rover, which grieved their hearts full sore,
I left my aged parents, I ne'er will see them more.
There lived a wealthy farmer in the country close by,
He had a lovely daughter and on Jier I'd cast my eye;
She was noble-minded, tall, beautiful and fair,
With Columbia's loveliest daughters she truly could compare.
I told her my intentions was soon to cross the main,
And asked if she would be true to me until I returned again;
Great drops of tears stood in her eyes, her bosom heaved a sigh,
''Dear youth," says she, "fear not. for me, my love will never
die."
But somewhere I have heard or read that which I cannot be-
lieve.
That distance breaks the links of love and leaves the maid to
grieve :
I fondly clasped her to my breast and kissed away her tears,
And I swore by Him above the skies that I would be sincere.
According to agreement, then, I went on board the ship
And to the town of Glasgow I had a pleasant trip:
I found that gold was plenty there, and girls were free and kind,
And my thoughts began to cool a bit for the girl I left behind.
For Dumfries town I next set out, that hospitable land.
Where handsome Jennie Ferguson she took me by the hand;
She says, "I've gold in plenty and love for you I find/'
And the thoughts of gold destroyed my love for the maid I
left behind.
She says, "If you will marry me and say no more you'll rove,
The gold that I've got is yours, and I will faithful prove;
But friends or relations that you have left behind.
Ton never, if you marry me, ngain must bear in mind.
To this I soon consented, I own it to my shame,
For what man can be happy when he , knows he is to blame ?
It's true I've gold in plenty, my wife is somewhat kind,
But my pillow still is haunted by the friends I left behind.
My father in his winding sheet, my mother, loo, appears,
The girl I loved seems by their sides, a-kissing away4heir tears;
Of broken hearts they all have died and now too late I find
That God has seen my cruelty to the girl I left behind.
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THE BANK OF THE LITTLE AUPLAINE.
One evening' in June as I rambled
Through the green woods and meadows alone,
The meadow larks warbled melodious,
1 merrily the whipporwill sung;
The frogs in the marshes were croaking,
The tree- toads were whistling for rain,
And the partridge all around me were drumming.
On the banks of the Little Auplaine.
The sun to the West a -declining,
Had shaded the tree tops with red,
My wandering feet led me onward,
Not caring wherever I strayed.
Till by chance I beheld a fair school ma'am,
Who most bitterly did complain,
It was all for the loss of her lover
From the banks of the Little Auplaine.
I boi .ped up to this fair one.
Arid this unto her I did say,
"'Why are you so sad and so mournful,
When all nature is smiling and gay?"
"It's all for a jolly young raftsman,
But I fear I will see him* no more,
For he is down on the Wisconsin River,
A -pulling a fifteen-foot oar."
"If it's all for a jolly young raftsman
You are here in such awful despair,
Pray tell me the name of your true love.
'And what kind of clothes did he wear?"
"His pants were made of two meal sa-
With a patch a foot wide on each knee,
And his jacket and shirt they- were dyed
With the bark of the butternut tree.
"His hair was inclined to be curly,
II is whiskers as red as the sun,
He was tall, square-shouldered and handsome,
His IK- is six feet and one.
His name was young Johnnie Murphy,
And his equal 1 ne'er saw bef<
But he is down on the Wisconsin River,
fifteen- foot oar."
"If Johnnie .Murphy was the name of your true love,
He was a man I knew very well,
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But sad is the tale I must tell you,
Your Johnnie was drowned in the Dalles.
We buried him 'neath a scrub Norway,
And his face you will ne'er see again;
No stone marks the grave of your lover,
And he is far from the Little Auplaine."
When she heard me say this she fainted,
And fell at my feet like one dead;
I scooped \ip a hat full of water
And threw it all over her head.
She opened her eyes and looked wildly,
She acted like one that's insane,
I thought to myself she had gone crazy
On the banks of the Little Auplaine.
"My curse be upon you, Ross Campbell,
For taking my Johnnie away;
May the eagles take hold of your body,
And sink it 'way down in the clay.
May your lumber all go to the bottom,
Never rise to the surface no more;
May all of your creeks and your sandbars
Go as dry as the log schoolhouse floor.
' ' And now, I will leave this location,
I'll teach district school no more;
I will go where never, no never,
I will hear the screech of a fifteen-foot oar.
I will go to some far distant country,
To England, to France or to Spain,
But I will never forget Johnnie Murphy
Or the banks of the Little Auplaine.
RED IRON ORE.
Come, all you bold sailors that follow the lakes
On an iron ore vessel, your living to make;
I shipped in Chicago, bid adieu to the shore,
Bound away to Escanaba for red iron ore.
Derry Down, Down, Down, Derry Down.
In the month of September, the seventeenth day,
Two dollars and a quarter is all they would pay,
And on Monday morning from Bridgeport did take
The E. C. Roberts out in the lake.
Derry Down, Down, Down, Derry Down.
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The wind from the southard sprang up a fresh breeze,
And away through Lake Michigan the Roberts did sneeze,
Down through Lake Michigan the Roberts did roar,
And on Friday morning we passed through death's door.
Derry Down, Down, Down, Derry Down.
Tliis packet she howled across the month of Green Bay,
And before her cut water she dashed the white spray;
We rounded the sand point, our anchor let go,
"We furled in our canvas. and the watch went below.
Derry Down, Down, Down, Derry Down.
Next morning we hove alongside the- ''Exile, "
And soon was made fast to an iron ore pile:
lowered their chutes and like thunder did roar.
They spouted into us that red iron ore.
Derry Down, Down, Down, Derry Down.
Some sailors took shovels, while others got spades,
And some took wheelbarrows, each man to his trade.
We looked like red devils, our fingers got sore,
We cursed Escanaba and damned iron ore.
Derry "Down, Down, Down, Derry Down.
The tug Escanaba she towed out the ' ' Miiiich, ' '
The Roberts, she thought, she had been left in a pinch,
And as they passed by us they bid us goodbye,
Saying, "We'll meet you in Cleveland next Fourth of July."
Derry Down, Down, Down, Derry Down.
Through Louse Island passage it blew a fresh breeze,
We made the Foxes, the Beavers and Skillageles;
We flew by the Minch for to show her the way,
And she ne'er hove in sight till we were off Thunder Bay.
Derry Down, Down, Down, Derry Down.
Across Saginaw Bay the Roberts did ride.
With the dark and deep water rolling over her side,
And now for Port Huron the Roberts must go,
Where the tug Kate Williams she took us in tow.
Derry Down, Down, Down, Derry Down.
We went through North passage oh, Lord, how it blew!
And all 'round the Dummy a large fleet there came, too ;
The night beiim 1 dark, Old Nick it would scare.
We hove up next morning and for Cleveland did steer. t
Derry Down, Down r Down, Derry Down.
Now the Roberts is in Cleveland, made fast stem and stern,
And over the bottle we'll spin a big yarn,
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But Captain Harvey Shannon liad ought to stand treat
For getting into Cleveland ahead of the fleet.
Derry Down, Down, Down, Derry Down.
Now my song it is ended, I hope you won't laugh,
Our dunnage is packed and all hands are paid off;
Here is health to the Eoberts, she's staunch, strong and true,
Not forgotten the bold boys that comprise lifcr crew.
Derry Down, Down, Down, Derry Down.
THE CHARGE AT FREDRICKSBURG.
It was just before the last fierce charge,
Two soldiers drew their rein,
"With a parting word and touch of the hand,
They might never meet again;
One had blue eyes and sunny curls,
Nineteen but a month ago,
Red on his cheek, down on his chin,
He was only a boy, you know.
The other was dark and tall and stern,
His fate in the world was dim,
He trusted more in those he lovecj.
They were all the world to him.
They had ridden together in many a raid,
They had marched for many a mile,
But never before had they met the foe
"With a calm and hopeful smile.
Now they looked into each other's eye
With an awful, ghastly gloom,
The tall, dark man was first to speak.
Saying, "Charlie, my hour has come,
Together we'll ride up the hill,
But you'll ride back alone;
But it is little trouble for me take
When I am dead and
"You will find- a fond ; 'Toast.
I'll wear it in the fight,
With soft blue eyes and sunny curls
That shine like morn ing liuht;
Like morning light was her love for me.
She gladdened my weary life,
And it's little I cared for the frowns of fate
"When she promised to be my wife.
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"Write to her, Charlie, when I am gone,
Send back that fond, sweet face,
And tell her tenderly how I died,
And where's my resting place;
Tell her my soul will wait for h-
In the 'border land between:
This earth is' Heaven until she com
It will not be long. I wene."
Tears dimmed the blue eyes of the b
His voice CITOW hoarse with pain,
Saying, "I'll do yonr bidding. Comrade mine,
[ ride back again :
But if you ride back and I am dead,
You will do the same for me;
My Mother at home nVust hear fhe ne
So write to her tenderly.
"One after another of those she loved
buried both husband and son;
I was the last my country caller.
She kissed and sent me on.
She is praying at home like a waiting saint.
With her fond face white with w
Her heart will be broke when I am gone,
I will see her soon, I know."
Just then the order came to charge.
For an instant hand touched hand.
Aye answered aye and on they went,
That brave, devoted band:
Straight on they Vent to the crest of the hill,
Where the rebels with shot and shell
Mowed rifts of death in our toiling ranks.
And .leered them as they fell.
They turned with an awful, dying yell
From the heights they could not gain.
And those that death and doom had spared
Rode slowly back again :
In the midst of their dead they have left behind
The boy with the curly hair.
And the tall, dark man that rode by his side
Lay dead alone with him there.
There is none to write to that lovely girl
The words that her lover said,
And the mother that waits for her boy at home
Will only hear, ''He's dead."
15
And never will know the last fond thoughts
That sought to soften her pain,
Until she crosses the border land
And stands by his side again.
'SHAUGHANESEY.
Oh, me name it is O'Shaughanesey, the truth I now will tell
to ye.
I work upon the section and I am an Irishman;
But some brakemen came the other day and unto myself these
words did say,
"O'Shaughanesey, you must away to .go braking on the train."
They took me out into the yard, they put in me hand a big
time card,
They told me braking wasn't hard, if I was only game.
They put on me head a railroad cap, they said it belonged to
Oliver Spratt,
Another dacent Irish chap that was braking on the train.
They sent me out on Number Tin, 'twas then me troubles did
begin,
And where in the divil they all came in it nearly racked me
brain ;
For one would send me for a pin, the other would fire me back
again,
And they kept me running from end to end when I was brak-
ing on the train.
They sent me after some red "ile," with the boys I had a terri-
ble trial,
The boss sair lie was out of it, but told me to call again ;
I axed him for a flat car key, 'twas then his eye he winked at me,
Saying, "I think your name is O'Shaughanesey that's braking
on the train.
We had a dale of switching to do in a yard, on meself it cams
most .mighty hard.
And fiow in the divil it happened I'm sure I never can tell;
For they sent me to make a flying switch, meself and the box-
car went in the ditch,
The conductor called me a son of a b when I was braking
on the train.
They sent me out on the upper deck, I thought I'd surely break
me neck,
16
I hung onto the running board until both me hands were sore;
'Twas then I thought about me sins, for I could hardly stand
upon me pins,
Oh, God, forgive me if ever again I go braking on a train!
The engine got stuck and the cars came back, and they sent me
back to take the slack,
I hunted all around for it, but hunted all in vain.
The conductor he did loudly yell, "Set up that brake, damn
your soul to hell,
Oh, what a misfortune on me befell when I went braking on
a train.
My Sunday pants were minus a sate, I tore them out unloading
freight,
And through a hole as big a,s Xew York my skin showed clear
and clane;
The boys were laughing all the while, saying, " 'Shaughanesey,
where did you get your style?"
My blood with madness fairly biled when I was braking on
the train.
THE LASS OF MOHE.
As I went a-walking one morning in May,
For fond recreation the time passed away,
As I sat amusing myself by a pass
There chanced to come along a fine Indian lass.
She sat down beside me, took hold of my hand,
Saying, "You are a stranger, far from your own land,
But if you will go with me you are welcome to come,
For I live by myself in a snug little home."
The sun was a-sinking down in the salt sea
When I went a-walking with a lass of Mohe:
We walked and we talked till we came to her home,
And there stood her cot in. a cocoaiiut grove.
I tarried all night till the day did appear,
My ship being ready, for home I must steer,
"(rood mornin.ir. u'ood morning, fare you well, oh, my dear,
My ship it is ready and for home I must steer."
With the" 1 fondest expression this fair one did say,
"If you will stay with me and not go away,
If you will stay with me and leave the salt sea,
I will teach you the language of the Isle of Mohe."
17
I said, "My fair lady, that never can be,
For I have a true sweetheart in my own country.
And I would not forsake her for her povei"
Her face is more fair than the lass of Mbhe.
And now T am home in my own native land,
And friends and relations around me do stand,
But of all that come near me or of all that I see,
There is none can compare with the hiss of Moi*e.
For this Indian lass she was modest and kind,
She acted her part so beautiful and fine,
When I was a stranger she took me to her home.
And I'll think on the Mohe as I wander alone.
THE APPRENTICE BOY.
Near Linster I was born, not of a high, degree,
My parents they adored, me, they had no child but me;
I roved around for pleasure where'er my fancy lay,
Until I was bound apprentice, then all joys passed away.
My master and my mistress they did not use me well,
I formed a resolution not long with them to dwell ;
So, unknown to friends and kindred, I slyly stole away,
And steered my course to Dublin, to me a woeful day.
I had not been in Dublin a day but only three
When an estated lady proposed to hire me;
She offered great inducements her waiting man to be,
If I would go with her to London, which proved my destiny.
Her offer I accepted, my fortune being low,
In hopes of grand promotion if along with her I 'd go ;
And as we sailed over-bound for that British shore,
It is little I thought I ne'er would see my native country more.
When we arrived in London to view r that fii
My evil-minded mistress grew very fond of me;
She offered me ten thousand pounds to be paid down, in hand,
If I'd agree to marry her it would be at my command.
"Qh. mistress, honored mistress, you must excuse me now,
For I am already promised upon a solemn vow;
Yes, I am already "promised, and a solemn vow I've made,
To wed with none but Jennie, your handsome waiting maid."
In wrath and indignation mv evil mistress said.
<; Just see how I am slighted all for a servant maid;
e you disdain my person and the offer that I make,
of you I -will have revenge though my life lay as a stake. "
''-Oh, mistress, to offend tliee I would be very loath.
But I can do nothing that's contrary to my oath;
Contrary to my oath, madam, but supposing my vows were clear,
I would not part with my jewel for ten thousand pounds a year."
One evening in the garden, a-taking in the air,
My mistress followed after me. plucking the flowers there:
Her gold repeating watch she took at the passing of me by,
And conveyed it to my pocket, for which I now must die.
I then was apprehended, to Xew H-ate I was sent,
Where I was left in bondage, my sorrows to lament:
Where I was left in bondage until my trial day.
My mistress thought it was no harm to swear my life away.
And now I am on the gallows and I must suffer here,
F would not break the vows I made unto my dear;
Though far from home and kindred, I bid the world adieu,
My charming, lovely Jennie, I die for love of you.
THE BIGLER 'S CREW.
Conic all my boys and listen, a song I'll sing to you.
It's all about the Bigler and of her jolly crew:
In Milwaukee last October I chanced to get a sight
In the schooner called the Bigler belonging to Detroit.
Chorus
Watch her. oatch her. jump up on her juber ju,
her the sheet and let her slide, the boys will push 1 her
through.
You ought to seen us howling, the winds were blowing free,
On our passage down to Buffalo from Milwaukee.
It was 011 a Sunday morning about the. hour of ten,
The Robert Emmet towed us out into Lake Michigan;
" left us in the middle of the fleet,
And the wind being from the southard, oh, we had to
her sh-
Then the wind chopped 'round to the s -?st and blew
both fresh and strong.
But softly through Lake Mii-lii^an the Bigler she rolled on,
And far beyond her foaming bow the dashing waves did fling,
19
With every stitch of canvas set, her course was wing and wing.
But the wind it eame> ahead before we reached Hie Manitous,
Three dollars and a half a day just suited the Bigler 's .crew;
From there unto the Beavers we steered her full and by,
And we kept her to the wind, my boys, as close as she could lie.
Through Skillagelee and Wabble Shanks the entrance to the
Straits,
We might have passed the big fleet there if they'd hove to and
wait,
But we drove them .on before us the nicest ever you saw,
Out into Lake Huron from the Straits of Mackinaw.
We made Presque Isle Light and then we boomed away,
The wind it being fair, for the Isle of Thunder Bay,
But when the wind it shifted, we hauled her on her starboard
tack,
With a good lookout ahead for the Light of the Point AuBarques.'
We made the Light and kept in sight of Michigan North Shore,
A -booming for the river as we'd oft times done before,
When right abreast Port Huron Light our small anchor we let go,
And the Sweepstakes came alongside and took the Bigler in tow.
The Sweepstakes took eight in tow and all of us fore and aft,
She towed us down to Lake St. Clare and stuck us on the flats,
She parted the Hunter's tow line in trying to give relief,
And stem and stern went the Biorler into the boat called Maple
Leaf.
The Sweepstakes then she towed us outside the River Light,
Lake Erie for to roam and the blustering winds to fight;
The wind being from the southard we paddled our own canoe,
With her nose pointed for the Dummy, she's hell bent for
Buffalo.
We made the OH and passed long Point, the wind was blowing
free,
"WeJiowled along the Canada shore, Port Colborne on our lea;
What is it*that looms up ahead, so well known as we draw near,
For like a blazing star. shone the light on Buffalo Pier.
And now we are safely landed in Buffalo Creek at last,
And under Rliggs' elevator the Bigler she's made fast,
And in some Lager beer saloon we'll let the bottle pass,
For we are jolly shipmates and we'll drink a social glass.
20
DONNELY AND COOPER,
Come, all you true bred Irishmen, I hope you will lend ear,
Unto as true a story as ever you did hear,
Concerning Cooper and Donnely, they fought on sweet Kildare.
It was on the tenth of June, my boys, that the challenge was
sent o'er,
From Britania to old Granua to raise her sons once more,
To renew her satisfaction their courage to arrear,
Sayinor, "I hope you will meet Cooper at the Curragh of Kil-
dare."
Old Granua read the message, she read it with a smile,
Saying, "You had better hasten to Kildare, my well beloved
child,
For there you, will reign victorious, as you have often done
before,
And your deeds will shine most glorious all around the Sham-
rock Shore."
After long hesitation bold Donnely did prepare,
To go with Captain Kelley to the Curragh of Kildare ;
The English Lords bet ten to one that day against poor Dan,
But such odds as this ne'er could dismiss the blood of an Irish-
man.
When those two burly champions were stripped off in the ring,
Both fully were determined each other's blood to bring;
From eight to nine they parried, when Donnely knocked him
down,
Well done, my child, and old Granua smiled, saying, * ' That wins
one thousand pounds.
Cooper, being active, he knocked down Donnely,
But Donnely, being of true a blood, he rose right manfully ;
Cooper, being active, knocked Donnely down again,
Those English Peers they gave three cheers, saying, "The
battle is all in vain."
Here is long life to one Miss Kelley, who was that day' upon
the plain;
She boldly stepped into the ring, saying, "Dan, what do you
mane?
You are as true an Irishman the Gentry all may see,
My whole estate this day I 've bet upon you, Donnely. ' '
"You need not fear, I am not beat, although I 'ye had a fall,
I will let him know before he goes that he will pay for all."
Cooper stood on kis own defense,^ exertion failed to skow,
23
Until Donnely gave him a temple blow that proved his over-
throw.
Oh, you sons of proud Britainia, your boasting how recall,
Since Cooper he by Donnely has met his sad downfall;
Out of eleven rounds he got nine knockdowns, besides broke
his jawbone;
Well done, my child, and ould Granua smiled, saying, "The
day is all our own."
SKIBBEREEX.
Father, dear, I often hear you speak of Erin's Isle,
It seems so bright and beautiful, so rich and rare the soil;
You say it is a bounteous land wherein a prince might dwell,
Then why did you abandon it, the reason to me tell.
>iy son, I loved my native land with favor and with pride,
Her peaceful groves, her mountains rude, her valleys green
and wide;
It was there I lived in manhood's prime and sported when a boy,
The Shamrock and Shillalah was my constant boast and joy.
But lo! a blight came o'er my crops, my sheep and cattle died,
The rent ran due, the taxes, too, I ne'er could have supplied;
The landlord turned me from the cot where born had I been,
And that, my boy, is the reason why I left old Skibbereen.
It is well do I remember that dark November day,
"When the landlord and the sheriff came to drive us all away;
They set the roof a-blazing with a demon yell of Spleen,
And when it fell the crash was heard all over Skibbereen.
Your mother, too, God rest her soul, fell on the snowy ground,
And fainted in her anguish at the desolation around
She lie 'er recovered, but passed away from life to Malchasene,
And found a grave of quiet rest in poor old Skibbereen.
Then sadly 1 I recall the days of gloomy Ninety-eight,
I rose in vengeance with the boys to battle again' fate;
Yv 7 e were hunted through the mountains as traitors to the queen,
And that, my boy, is the reason why I left old Skibbereen.
You then, my son, was scare three years old and feeble was
your frame,
I would not leave you with my friends, you bore my Father's
name;
I wrapped you in my kosamane, at dead of night unseen,
I hore a sigh and bade good-bye to poor old Skibbereen.
22
Then, father, father ! when the day for vengeance they will call,
When Irishmen- o J er field and fin will rally one and all,
I will be the man to lead the band beneath the flag so green,
While loud on high we will raise the cry, "Revenge for Skib-
bereen."
COLLEEN BAWN.
In. the golden fields of Limerick,
Close by the Shannon stream,
There lives a maid that holds my heart,
And haunts it like a dream;
With shining showers of golden hair,
As .gentle as a fawn,
Her cheeks would make the red rose pale,
My darling Colleen Bawn.
Her hands are whiter than the snow,
Upon the mountain side,
And softer than the creamy foam,
That floats upon the tide;
Her teeth like drops of pearly dew,
That sparkles on the lawn,
Oh, the sunshine of my life she is,
My darling Colleen Bawn.
Although she seldom speaks to me,
I think on her with pride,
Fjor seven long years I courted her,
And asked her to be my bride;
But dreary spells of cold neglect
Is all from her T have drawn,
For I'm but a poor laboring boy,
And she's the Colleen Bawn.
And to leave old Ireland far behind
Is oft times in my mind,
To go roaming for some other bride,
And country for to find;
But I have seen some low spalpeens,
Upon her footsteps vaughn,
Which keeps me near to ,guard my dear,
My darling Colleen Bawn.
The ladies of. Limerick frave that way,
Throughout old Erin's Isle,
23
They have fought upon the city walls,
As they did in days of yore;
They have kept away the enemy,
All night until the dawn, ,
And most worthy of the title
Is my darling Colleen Bawn.
HEENAN AND SAYERS.
It was in merry England, the home of Johnnie Bull,
Where Britons fill their glasses, t^ey fill them brimming full,
And of the toast they drank it was to Briton's brave,
And it is long may our champion bring victories o'er the wave.
Tlien up jumps Uncle Sammy, and he looks across the main,
Saying, "Is that your English bully I hear bellowing again?
Oh, has he not forgotten the giant o'er the pond,
Who used to juggle cannon balls when his day's work was done?
"Remember, Uncle Johnnie, the giant stronger grows,
He is always on his muscle and ready 'for his foes;
When but a boy at Yorktown I caused you for to sigh
So when e'er you boast of fighting, Johnnie Bull, mil
eve."
mind your
It was in merry England, all in the blooming spring,
When this burly English champion he stripped off in the ring,
He stripped to fight young Heenan, our gallant son of Troy,
And to try his English muscle on our bold Benicia boy.
There were two brilliant flags, my boys, a-f loating o 'er the ring,
The British were a lion all ready for a spring,
The Yankee was an eagle, and an awful bird she was,
For she carried^ a bunch of thunderbolts well fastened in her
claws.
The coppers they were tossed, me boys, the fighting did begin,
It was two to one 011 Sayers the bets came rolling in;
They fought like loyal heroes, until one received a blow,
And the red crimson torrent from our Yankee's nose did flow.
"First blood, first blood, my Tommy boy," the English cried
with joy,
The English cheer their hero while the bold Benicia boy,
The tiger rose within him, like lightning flared his eye,
Saying, "Mark away, old England, but Tommie, mind your
eye."
24
The last grand round of all, my boys, this world has ne'er seen
beat,
When the son of Uncle Sammy raised the Champion from his
feet,
His followers did smile while he held him in the air,
And from his grasp he flung him, which caused the English
men to stare.
Come, all you sporting Americans, wherever you have strayecl,
Look on this glorious eagle and never be afraid;
May our Union last forever and our Flag the world defy,
So whenever you boast of fightiiisr, Johnnie Bull, mind your eye.
YOUNG MUNROE.
Come all you jolly shanty boys, wherever you may be,
I hope you'll pay attention and listen unto me,
Concerning a young shanty boy so manfully and brave,
It was on a jam at Garray's rocks where he met with a watery
grave.
It was on a Sunday morning as you will quickly hear,
Our logs were piling mountain high, we could not keep them
clear, .
When the boss he cries, ' ' Turn out, me boys, with hearts devoid
of fear,
To break the jam 011 Garry's rocks and for Eagantown we'll
steer. ' '
Some of them were willing, while others they hung back.
To work upon a Sunday they did not think was right,
Until six of our young Canadians they volunteered to go,
And break the jam on Garry's rocks with their foreman, young
Munroe.
They had not rolled off many logs when the boss to them did say,
"I would have you to be on your guard, for this jam will soon
give wfi
Those words were scarcely spoken when the jam did break
and go,
And carried away those six young men with their foreman,
young Munroe.
When the rest of those young shanty boys they came, the news
to hear,
In search of their dead bodies for the river they did steer,
When one of their lifeless bodies found to their sad grief and
woe,
25
All cut and mangled on the rocks was the form of young
Muiiroe.
They took him from his watery grave, fninbed down his coal-
black hair,
There was one fair form among them Avhose cries did rend the
air;
There was one fair form among them, a girl from Saginaw town,
Her tears and cries would rend the skies for her lover that
was drowned.
Miss Clara was a noble girl, likewise a raftsman's friend,
Her mother was a widow 7 living by the river's bend,
The wages of her own true love the boss to her did pay,
And a liberal subscription she received from the shanty boys
next day.
They took and buried him decently, being on the tenth of May,
And the rest of you young shanty boys, it's for your comrade
pray!
It is engraved on a little hemlock tree, close by his head it does
grow,
The day and date of the drowning of this hero, young Munroe.
Miss Clara did not survive long to her sad grief and woe;
It was less than two weeks after she, too. was called to go,
It was less than tw r o keeks after she, too, was called to go,
And her last request W 7 as granted her, to be laid by young
Munroe.
"Now, any of you shanty boys that would like to go and see,
On a little mound by the river side there grow r s a hemlock tree;
The shanty boy cuts the woods all round, two lovers here lie low,
Here lies Miss Clara Dennison and her lover, voung Munroe.
JERRY, GO OIL THE CAR.
Come, all you railroad section hands, I hope you will draw near,
And likewise pay attention to these few lines you'll hear,
Concerning one Larry Sullivan, alas, he is no more,
He sailed some forty years ago from the green old Irish shore.
For four and thirty weary years he worked upon the track,
And the truth to say from the very first day he never had a
wreck,
For he made it a point to keep up the lower joints with the
force of the tamping bar;
'Joint ahead and center back and Jerry go oil the car.
26
To see old Larry in the winter time when the hills were clad
with snow,
It was his "pride 011 his handcar to ride as over the section
he'd go,
With his big soldier coat buttoned up to his throat, sure he
looked like an Emperor,
And while the boys were shimming up the ties, sure Jerry
would be oiling the car.
When Sunday morning came around to the section hands he'd
say,
"I suppose you all know that my wife is going to Mass today,
And I want every man for to pump all he can, for the distance
it is very far,
And I'd like to get in ahead of number ten, so Jerry go oil
the car."
"And now when my friends are gathered around, there is one
request I crave,
When I am dead and gone to my rest, place the handcar on
! ve ;
Let the spike mawl rest upon my breast with the gauge and
the old clawbar,
And while the boys fire lowering me down, hire Jerry to be
oiling the car."
"Give my regards to the roj'dinaster," poor Larry he did cry,
"And rise me up so I may see the handcar before I die."
He was so wake lie could hardly spake, in a moment he was dead ;
"Joint ahead and center back," were the very last words he
said.
Remarks by .l/r.9. Sullivan.
God bless you. Larry Sullivan, to me you was kind and good,
For me you'd make the section hands"go out and cut the wood,
To the well also for water they would go. and chop the kin-
dling fine,
And if any of them would growl, upon my soul, he'd dam soon
get his time.
And now that he is dead I want it to be said that the cars they
never got a jar;
Joint ahead and center back and Jerry go oil the car.
THE OLD ELM TREE.
I am sitting there, I'm dreaming now,
Beneath the wide and spreading boughs,
27
And the -golden willows are bending low
On the green mossy banks where the violets grow;
And the wild birds are singing the same sweet lays
That charms me in dreams of the dear old days,
"When Laura, my beautiful, sat by me,
On the moss covered seat 'neath the old elm tree.
It was there with the bright blue sky above,
I told her the tale of my heart's true love,
And it was there ere the blossoms of summer died,
She gave me her promise to be my bride.
Little I thought ere I would return from the dark blue sea,
They would make her a grave 'neath the old elm tree.
Oh, cruel and false were the tales they told,
How my heart was untrue to my own love cold,
How my present heart had another dear,
Forgetting the promise I made her here ;
Until her cheeks grew pale with her heart-broken pain,
And those beautiful lips never smiled again,
But she silently wept where none could see,
She wept for the past 'neath the old elm tree.
She died and they parted her sunny hair,
On her marble brow death left so fair,
And they made har a grave where the fair young flowers
Could bloom by her side in the long summer hours;
Oh, Laura, dear Laura, my heart's best love,
"We will meet in the angels' home above;
Earth holds no treasure so dear to me
As the moss covered grave 'neath the old elm tree.
THE U. S. A.
"Tell me, daddy, tell me, why the men in yonder crowd,
Can you tell me why they are marching, why each (5ne looks so
proud ? ' '
1 ' Listen, lad, ' ' he answered, ' ' 'tis the tune the brass band plays,
'Tis the song 'My Country 'Tis of Thee,' and you know well
what it says.
"Heroes bold in battle both our grandpas fought and fell,
'Mid the cannon's roar and rattle so freedom here might dwell;
Washington and Jackson, Lincoln, Grant and Lee,
They're the men that made us what we are on the land and on
the sea.
"No matter where you ramble, no matter where you roam,
You never have to ponder on a place to call your home;
When they ask you, lad, where were you born, turn proudly
'round and say
That vour home is the land of Uncle Sam, the IT. S. A."
PERSIAN'S CREW.
Sad and dismal is the stoiy that I will tell to you,
About the schooner Persia, her officers and crew;
They sank beneath the waters deep in life to rise no more,
Where wind and desolation sweeps Lake Huron's rock bound
shore.
They left Chicago on their lee, their songs they did resound,
Their hearts were filled with joy and glee, for they were home-
ward bound;
They little thought the sword of death would meet them on
their way.
And they so full of joy and life would in Lake Huron lay.
In mystery o'er their fate was sealed, they did collide, some say,
And that is all that will be revealed until the judgment day;
But when the angels take their stand to sweep these waters blue,
They will summon forth at Heaven's command the Persian's
luckless crew.
Xo mother's hand was there to soothe the brow's distracted pain,
No gentle wife for to carress those cold lips once again :
No sister nor a lover dear or little ones to moan,
But in the deep alone they sleep, far from their friends and
home.
Her captain, he is no more, he lost his precious life,
He sank down among Lake Huron's waves, free from all mortal
strife ;
A barren coast now hides from view his manly, lifeless form,
And still in death is the heart so true that weathered many a
storm.
There was Daniel Sullivan, her mate, with a heart as true and
brave.
As ever was compelled by fate to fill a sailor's grave;
Alas, he lost his noble life, poor Daniel is no more,
He met a sad, untimely end upon Lake Huron's shore.
Oh, Daniel, Dan, your many friends mourn the fate that lias
on you frowned,
They look in vain for your return back to Oswego town:
29
They miss the love glance of your eye, your hand they'll clasp
110 more,
For still in death you now do lie upon Lake Huron's shore.
Her sailors' names I did not know, excepting one or two,
Down in the deep they all did go, they were a luckless crew;
Not one escaped to land to clear the mystery o'er,
Or to lie adrift by Heaven's command -in lifeless form ashore.
Now around Presque Isle the sea birds scream their mournful
notes along,
In chanting to the sad requiem, the mournful funeral song;
They skim along the waters blue and then aloft they soar,
O'er the bodies of the Persian's crew that lie along the shore.
JIM FISK.
If you will listen awhile I will sing you a song
About this glorious land of the free.
And the difference I'll show between the rich and the poor,
In a trial by jury, you see.
If you have plenty of money you can hold up your head,
And walk out from your own prison door,
But they'll hang you up high if you've no friends or gold,
Let the rich go, but hang up the poor.
In trial by jury we have nowadays,
The rich men get off swift and sure,
While they've thousands to pay 1 both the jury and judge,
You can bet they'll go back on the poor.
Let me speak of a man who is now in his grave,
A better man never was born;
.Jim Fisk he was called and his money he gave
To the outcast, the poor and forlorn.
We all know he loved both women and wine,
But his heart it was right, I am sure,
Though he lived like a prince in his palace so fine,
He never went back on the poor.
If a man was in trouble he would help him along,
To drive the .grim wolf from the door,
He strove to do right, though lie may have done wrong,
But he never went back 011 the poor.
Jim Fisk was a man with his heart in his hand,
Xo matter what people might say,
And he did all his deeds, both the good and the bad,
30'
In the broad, open light of the day.
With his grand six-in-band on the bea^h at Long Branch,
He cut a big dash, to be sure,
But Chicago's great fire showed the world that Jim Fisk
With his wealth still remembered the poor.
When a telegram came- that the homeless that night
Were starving to death slow but sure,
The Lightning Exprt-ss. manned by ftoble Jim Fisk,
Flew to feed all her hungry and poor.
Now what do you think of the trial of Stokes,
Who murdered the friend of the poor?
When such men get free is there any one safe,
If they step outside of their own door?
Is there a law for the rich and one for the poor?
It seems so, at least so they say,
If they hang up the poor, why hadn't the rich
Ought to sv. ilie very same way?
Don't show any favor to friend or to foe,
The or prince at your door,
If you always do right you will get your reward.
If you never go back on the poor.
BEX BOLT.
Oh, don't you remember Sweet Alice, Ben Bolt,
Sweet Alice whose hair was so brown,
Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile,
And trembled with fear at your frown?
In the old church-yard in the valley, Ben Bolt,
In a corner obscure and alone,
They have fitted a 'slab of the granite so gray,
And sweet Alice lies under the stone;
They have- fitted a slab of the granite so gray,
Alice lies under the stone.
Under the hickory tree, Ben Bolt,
Which stood at the foot of the hill,
Together we've lain in the noon-day shade.
And listened to Appleton's mill.
The mill-wheel has fallen to pieces, Ben' Bolt,
The rafters have tumbled in,
And a quiet that crawls 'round the walls as you gaze,
Has followed the olden din ;
And a quiet that crawls 'round the walls as yon gaze,
Has followed tlfe olden din.
And don't you remember the, school, Ben Bolt,
With the master so kind and so true,
And the shaded nook by the running brook,
"Where the fairest wild flowers grew?
Grass grows on the master's grave, Ben Bolt,
The spring of the brook is dry,
And of all the boys that were school-mates then,
There are only you and I;
And of all the boys that were school-mates then,
There are only you and I.
There is change in the things I loved, Ben Bolt,
They have changed from the old to the new;
But I feel in the depths of my spirit the truth,
There never was a change in you.
Twelve months twenty times have past, Ben Bolt,
Since first we were friends, yet I hail
Thy presence a blessing, thy friendship a truth,
Ben Bolt of the salt sea gale;
Thy presence a blessing, thy friendship a truth,
Ben Bolt of the salt sea gale.
TO MORRlOW.
I started on a journey just about a week ago,
To the little town of Morrow, in the State of Ohio;
1 never was a traveler and really did not know,
That Morrow had been ridiculed a century or so;
I went down to the depot for my ticket and applied
For tips regarding Morrow,, not expecting to be guyed.
Said I, "My friend, I want to go to Morrow and return
Not later than tomorrow, for I haven't time to burn."
Said he to me, "Now, let me see if I have heard you right,
You want to go to Morrow and come back to-morrow night j
To go from here to Morrow and return is quite a way,
You should have gone to Morrow yesterday and back today;
For if you started yesterday to Morrow, don't you see,
You could have gone to Morrow and returned to-day at three.
The train that started yesterday, now understand me right,
Today gets to Morrow and returns to-morrow night."
Said I, "My friend, it seems to me you're talking through your
hat, -
32
i town named Morrow on your Tine, now tell me that?"
i.vs he, "and take from me a quiet little*tip,
o from here to Morrow is a f ourteeri-hour trip ;
The train that goes to Morrow leaves today eight thirty-five,
Half after ten to-morrow is the time it should arrive;
Now if from here to Morrow is a fourteen-hour jump,
Can you go to-day to Morrow and get back to-day, you chump V
s I, "I want to go to Morrow, can I go today.
And get to Morrow by to-night if there is no delay?"
"Well, well," says he, "explain to me, and I've no more to say,
How can you go anywhere to-morrow and get back today?
if to-day you start to Morrow, it's a cinch you'll land
Tomorrow into Morrow, not to-day, you understand;
'For the train to-day to Morrow, if the schedule is right,
It will get you into Morrow by about to-morrow night."
F, "I guess you know it all, but kindly let me say,
How can I go to Mforrow if I leave the town today?"
ays. "Yon cannot go to Morrow any more to-day,
For the train that goes to Morrow is a mile upon its way."
1 was so disappointed, I was mad enough to swear,
The train had gone to Morrow and left me standing there;
The man was right in telling me I was a howling jay,
I didn't go to Morrow, so I guess I'll go today.
THE LADY LEROY.
:;-walking one morning in May,
For to view those fine meadows, all nature seemed gay,
I espied a young couple on old Erin's green shore,
A-viewing the oc^an where the wild billows roar.
"Sally, dear Sally, you're the girl I adore,
And to be parted from you it grieves my heart sore,
I>ut your parents are rich, Jove, and they're angry at me,
And were I to slay with you our ruin it- would be."
When she heard him say this she dressed herself in men's clothes
And away to her father she instantly goes;
She purchased a vessel, paid him down his demand,
But little he knew it was from his own daughter's hand.
Then to her true lover she went right away,
bade him get ready without further delay,
So they hoisted their topsails and colors let fly,
And she sailed o'er the ocean, the Lady Leroy.
33
When her old father heard this, in grief and despair,
Straightway to his Captain he soon did repair,
Saying, "Pursue and overtake them and his life destroy,
For he ne'er will enjoy the fair Lady Leroy. "
Then proud of his message this bold Captain goes,
As if for to conquer some bold, daring foes ;
He spies a large vessel, her colors let fly,
He hails her and finds she's the Lady Leroy.
"Now turn back to Erin, to Erin's ii'reen shore,
Or a broadside of grapeshot into you I'll pour."
But Sally's true lover made him this reply,
"We'll never surrender, we'll conquer or die!"
Then broadside like hail on each other did pour.
Until many brave seamen were, wounded full sore,
But Sally's true lover gained the victory,
For, like all true lovers, they will always Joe free.
"Now turn back to Erin and. there let them know,
That we ne'er will be conquered by friend or by foe;
Here's a health to young Sally, she's the Lady Leroy,
She's the source of my comfort and my only joy."
NAME .THE BOY DENNIS OR NO NAME AT ALL.
I'm bothered, yes, I'm bothered, completely perplexed,
I'm the father of a little boy, I'm not happy but I'm vexed;
I have ninety Tnine relations and they nearly drive me wild,
Both one and all, both great and small, they want to name the
child.
Chorus :
My wife she wants him Michael, her sister wants him Mai,
My brother wants him Charlie, while her auntie wants him Pat;
Whilst her brother wants him Shanius, and my father wants
to call him Paul, '
I do declare I don't know what I'll name the boy at all.
It was only here this morning my brother came from Troy,
He swore by this, he swore by that, that he would name the boy;
Says me wife's brother Darby he'd be hanged if that would do,
And they jumped together on the floor and bad a bold set-to.
Next Sunday is the christening dwy and I'll tell you, by the way,
I'll have none of their conniving I'm hound to have my say;
11 him tliis or call him that, I don't cave a snap
Mil,
I'm bound to call him Dennis, or he'll have no name t all.
LLY MFXEOE.
:<?, all you la;ls and on will attend,
And listen to the* lines that I have lately penned,
And I'll tell you of the hardships that I did undergo,
11 for a ly Mini roe.
iim Dixon, I'm a blacksmith by trade.
as in the town of Erie .where I was born and raised;
, that town to Belfast to work I did go,
Jiintry from Sally Munroe.
'. promised that fair lady a letter I would send,
it to a comrade I. took to be my friend.
But instead o a friend of mine, he proved to be my foe,
For he ave that letter to young Sally Munroe.
id her old mother for to beware of p
I had a wife in a strange country:
The .er old mother, "If what you say be so,
.all enjoy my young Sally Munroe."
It was two and never did I hear
the lassie that I once loved so dear,
Till one bright summer morning down by a shady row,
It w did meet young Sally Munroe.
Mv 1)0!' ie, if you'll gang along wi" me,.,
ite of our auld parents it's mar- will be."
i have no objections along with you to go,
you will prove loyal to your Sally Munroe."
It v <>m Norwich to Belfast we did go,
irried to young Sally Munroe;
There was a ship at Williams' Point all read}' to set sail,
With five hundred passengers, their passage all were paid,
I paid down our for Quebec also,
And there I did embark with Sally Munroe.
-I down the river with a sweet and pleasant gale,
And left our old parents fiehind to weep and wail,
"While many were the salt tears that down their cheeks did flow,
Oh, I was quite happy with young* Sally Mnnroe.
About four in the morning came on a dreadful blow,
Our ship she struck a rock and to the bottom she did .go,
With five hundred passengers that were all down below,
And among that great number I lost Sally Munroe.
It was from her old parents that I stole her away,
And that will shock my conscience for many a' long day;
It was not for to injure her that ever I did so,
And I'll mourn all my days for young Sally Munroe.
JOHN MITCHELL.
I am a true bred Irishman, John Mitchell is my name,
"When first to join my country's cause from Tierney town I
came;
I struggled v hard both night and day to free my native land,
For which I was transported, as you may understand.
When first I joined my countrymen it was in '42,
And then what followed after I'll quickly tell to you;
I raised the Standard of Repeal and gloried in the deed,
And I swore that I would never r'ast until Ireland was freed.
While here in prison close confined, waiting my trial day,
My darling wife came to me and. those words to me did say,
"Cheer up, cheer up, my dearest John, and daunted do not be,
For it's better to die for Erin's rights than to live in slavery."
When I received my sentence 'twas on a foreign ground,
Where hundreds of my countrymen assembled all around ;
My liberty was offered me if I would forsake their cause.
But I'd rather die ten thousand deaths than forsake my Irish
boys.
Farewell, my true born Irishmen, farewell, my country too,
But to leave my wife and babes behind it's almost more than
I can do;
There is one request I ask of you when your liberty you gain,
Remember John Mitchell far away, though a convict bound in
chains.
THE CUMBERLAND'S CREW.
Come, shipmates, all gather arid list, to my ditty,
Of a terrible battle that happened of late,
And let each Union tar shed a tear of pity
36
When lie hears of our once noble Cumberland's fate;
Oh, the eighth day of March told a terrible story,
And many brave heroes to the world bid adieu,
But the Star Spangled Banner was mantled in glory,
By the heroic deeds of the Cumberland's crew.
On the eighth day of March, about ten in the morning >
When the day it was cloudless and bright shone the sun,
The- drums on the Cumberland sounded a warning,
That told every seaman to stand by his gun ;
For an iron clad frigate down on us was bea<
And high at her top she the Rebel flag flew,
With me pennant of treason so proudly a-flying,
Determined to capture our Cumberland's crew.
Then up spoke our Captain with stern resolution,
Saying, "Boys, of this monster let us not be dismayed,
We are sworn to sustain our beloved Constitution,-
And to die for our country we are not afraid;
We will fight for the Union, our cause it is glorious,
To the Stars and the Stripes we will ever prove true,
\vill die at our guns or we'll conquer victorious,"
He was answered by cheers from the Cumberland's crew.
Our ports we threw open and guns we made thunder,
A broadside like hail on those rebels did pour,
The sailors, amazed, all stood struck with great wonder,
When our shots struck her side and glanced harmlessly o'er;
But the pride of our Navy would never surrender,"
Though the dead and the dying our decks they did strew,
And the Star Spangled Banner above us was flying,
It was nailed to the mast by the Cumberland's crew.
When those traitors found cannons could never avail them,
A-fighting those heroes with God on their side,
The flag of secession had 110 power to quail them,
Though the blood from our scuppers did crimson the tide;
She struck us amidship, our planks they did sever,
With her sharp iron prow pierced our noble ship through.
And as we were sinking in the dark rolling waters,
"Let us die at our guns," says the Cumberland's crew.
Slowly they sank in the dark rolling water,
The light of this world they will never see more,
'Long will they be wept by Columbia's sons and daughters,
Let their deaths be , avenged on Virginia's bright shore;
And if any of those heroes in battle ascended,
God bless their old banner, the Red, White and Blue,
For beneath its broad folds we'll make tyrants to tremble,
Or die at our guns like the Cumberland's erew.
3T
DORAX'S ASS.
One Paddy Doyle lived in Killaruoy,
Courted a girl named Bidclie Toole,
Her tongue was tipped with a bit of the Blarney,
The same to Pat was the Golden Rule;
Both night and day she was his comrade.
And to himself I've heard him say,
"What need I care, for she's me darling,
And I know she'll meet me on the wav. "
Whack fol do lol de lural ido,
Whack fol de lol de lural la.
Whack fol de lol de lural ido,
I know shell meet me on the way.
One heavenly night hi last November,
Paddy went to see his love,
What night it was I don't remember,
But the moon shone brightly from above ;
It's true the boy had been drinking liquor,
His spirits they were light and gay.
Saying, "What's the use of walking faster.
For I know she'll meet me on the way."
He lit his pipe, commenced to smoking,
As merrily o'er the road did jog,
But fatigue and whiskey overcame him,
So Paddy lay down upon the sod;
He was not long without a comrade,
And a one that too-kicked up the hay,
For the big jackass he smelt out Paddy,
And lay down beside him on the way.
As Paddy lay in peaceful slumber,
Thinking of his Biddie dear,
He had sweet dreams without number,
To be fulfilled in the coming year.
He threw his arms out on the .grass,
His spirits they were light and gay.
But instead of Biddie he grabbed the ass ?
And bayvled out, "I've met her on the way."
He hugged and smugged this woolly divil,
While to himself did curse and swear,
Saying, "You've come at last, me Biddie darling,
But, by me sowl, you're like a bear."
He laid his hand on the donkey's nose,
38
The donkey he began to bray,
Then Paddy sung out, "Bloody murther !
met the Divil on the way. 7 '
Paddy, ran home at railroad speed,
As railroad speed as fast, I'm sure,
He never halted leg or feet
Until he arrived at Biddie 's door;
It being early in the morning',
Down on his knees Pat fell to pray,
Saying 1 , "Rise up, rise up, Biddie darling
met the Divil on the way.''
He told his story niidity civil.
While she prepared the whiskey glass,
ARRAH, Pat!' ? says she, "It was no Divil,
It was nothing at all but Doran's ass."
I am sure it was my Biddie dari
they were married right away,
But he never got "the oukl straw hat,
That the donkey ate up on the way.
BOLD DANIEL.
It was on the fourteenth day of January,
From England we set sail,
We were bound down to Laguire,
Witlr a sweet and pleasant gale ;
The Roving Lizzie we are called,
Bold Daniel is my name,
And we sailed away from Laguire,
Just out of the Spanish Main.
And when we reached Laguire,
Our orders did read so,
"When you discharge your cargo,
It's sail for Callao."
Our Captain calied all hands right aft,
d unto us did say,
"Here is money for you today, my lads,
For tomorrow we'll sail away. 7 '
It was early the next morning,
As daylight did draw nigh.
The man from at the masthead
A strange sail did espy;
39
With a black flag under her mizzen peak,
Came bearing down that way:
"I'll be bound she is some pirate/"
Bold Daniel he did say.
In the course of three or four hours,
This pirate ranged alongside,
And with a speaking trumpet,
"Where are you from?" he cries.
"The Roving Lizzie w^e are called,
Bold Daniel is my name,
And we sailed away from Laguire,
Just out of the Spanish Main."
"Come, back your topsails to your mast,
And heave your ship under my lee."
"Oh, no! oh, no!" cried Daniel,
I'd rather sink at sea."
They hoisted up their bloody flag,
Our hearts to terrify.
With their big guns to our small arms,
At us they did let fly.
We mounted four six-pounders
To fight a hundred men,
And when the action did begin,
It was just about half -past ten;
We mounted four six-pounders,
Our crew being twenty-two;
In the course of an hour and a quarter,
Those pirates we did subdue.
And now our prize we've taken
Unto Columbia's shore,
To that dear old place in America,
They call sweet Baltimore;
We'll drink success to Daniel,
Likewise his gallant crew.
That fought and beat that Pirate
With his noble twenty-two.
THE HEIGHTS OF ALMA.
It was in September, the eighteenth day
In spite of the salt sea's dashing spray,
We landed safe on tke Crimea,
Upon our route to Alma.
That night we lay on the cold, cold ground,
No peace or comfort could be found,
i by the rain were nearly drowned,
To cheer our hearts for Alma.
Next morning when we did ari
Beneath those gloomy Russian si
Lord Ragalaii, our Chieftain cries,
"Prepare to march for Alma/'
And when the heights they hove in view,
' hearts they would subdue,
To see that motley Russian crew
Upon the heights of Alma.
They were so strongly fortified,
With batteries on each mountain side.
Lord Ragalan viewed their works and cried,
"Well have tough work in Alma,"
The Scotch Greys were the first that came,
And turned their fire in like rain,
But many a Highland lass will mauirn.
For that day's work at Alma.
The Twenty-second Fusileers,
They gained the heights and gave three cheers,
With joy each Briton's heart did cheer,
Hibernia's sons at Alma.
Back to Sebastapool the Russians fled,
They left their dying and their dead,
The rivers that day did run fed
With the blood that flowed at Alma.
ORANGE AND GREEN.
The night was falling dreary in merry Bandoh Town,
When in his cottage Veary an Orangeman lay down ;
The summer sun in splendor had set upon the vale,
And shouts of "No surrender!" arose upon the gale.
Beside the waters laving the feet of aged trees,
The Orange banner waving flew boldly in the breeze;
In mighty chorus greeting a thousand voices join,
And fife and drums are beating the battle of the Boyne.
Ha ! Toward his cottage hieing, what form is speeding now,
41
From yonder thicket flying with blood upon his brow?
"Hide; hide me, worthy stranger, though green my color be,
And in the day of danger may Heaven remember ti
"In yonder vale contending alone against that crew,
My life and limbs clef ending, an Orangeman, I slew :
Hark ! Hear that fearful warning, there is death in every tone,
Oh, save my life till morning, and Heaven prolong your own."
The Orange heart was melted in pity to the Green,
He heard the tale and felt it in his -very sour within;
A Dread not that angry warning, though death be in its tone,
I'll save your life till morning or I will lose my own."
Now 'round his lowly dwelling the angry torrent pressed,
A hundred voices swelling, the Orangeman addressed,
''Arise, arise and follow the chase along the plain,
In yonder stony hollow your only son is slain/'
With rising -shouts they gather, upon the track amain,
-And leave the childless father aghast with sudden pain;
He seeks the righted stranger in covert where he lay,
"Arise," he said, "all danger is gone and passed away."
"I had a son, one, only one, loved as my life,
Thy hand has left me lonely in that accursed strife,
I pledged my word to save thee until the storm should cease,
I kept the pledge I gave thee, arise and go in peace."
The stranger soon departed from that unhappy vale,
The father, broken hearted, lay brooding o'er the tale;
Full twenty summers after to silver turned his beard,
And yet the sound of laughter from him was never heard.
night was falling dreary in merry Wexford Town,
When, in his cabin weary a peasant laid him down,
And many a voice was singing along the summer vale.
And Wexford Town was ringing with cries of Granua.
Beside the waters laving the feet of aged trees,
The green flag gaily waving was spread against the breeze,
In mighty chorus meeting loud voices filled the town,
And fife and drum were'beating down Orangeman, lie down!
Hark! Mid the stirring clangor that woke the echoes there,
Loud voices high in anger rise 011 the evening air,
Like billows of the ocean he sees them hurry on,
And 'mid the wild commotion an Orangeman alone.
"My hair," he said, "is hoary, and feeble is my hand,
But I could tell a story would shame your cruel band;
42
;d over have changed by heart and brow,
I am grown a lover of peace and concord now.
"It was not thus I greeted your brother of the Green,
When fainting and defeated I freely took him in;
I pledged my word to save him fro m vengeance rushing on.
I kept the pledge I gave him, though he had killed my son.''
The aged peasant heard him and knew him as he stood,
Remembrance kindly stirred him and tender gratitude;
With rushiuL >!' pleasure he pierced the listening train,
"I'm here to pay the measure of kindness back again."
Upon his bosom falling the old man's tears came down,
Deep memory recalling the cot and fatal town;
''The hand that would offend thee, my being first shall end,
I'm living to defend thee, my savior and my friend."
He said, and turning slowly addressed the wondering crowd,
With fervent spirit burning he told the tale aloud;
Now pressed the warm beholders; their aged for to greet,
They raised him on jtheir shoulders and chaired him- through
the str
As he had saved that stranger from peril scowling dim,
So in his day of danger did Heaven remember him:
By joyous crowds attended, the worthy pair were seen,
And their flags that day were blended, the Orange and the
Green.
MRS. FOGARTY'S CAKE.
As T sat by my window last evening, the letter-man brought
unto me.
A little gild-edged invitation, saying. ' ' Gilhooley, come over
to tea."
Sure I knew that the Fogarty's .sent it, so I went just for old
friendship sake.
And the first thing they gave me to tackle was a slice of Mrs.
Fogarty's cake.
Chorus
There was plums and prunes and cherries,
And citrons and cinnamon, too,
There was cloves and spices and berries,
And the crust it was nailed on with glue;
There was carroway seeds in abundance,
43
Sure it would build up a fine stomach ache,
It would kill a man twice after eating
A piece of Mrs. Fogarty's cake.
Miss Mulligan wanted to taste it, but really there wasn't no use,
They worked for over an hour, but couldn't get none of it loose,
Till Fogarty went for a hatchet and Kelly he came with a saw,
That cake was enough, be the powers, to paralyze any one's jaw.
Mrs. Fogarty, proud as a peacock, kept smiling and blinking
away,
Till she tripped over Flannagaii's brogans and spilt a whole
brewing of tay;
Oh, Gilhooly," she cries, "you're not ating,_try a little piece
more of my cake."
Says I, "No, Mrs. Fogarty, thank you, but I'd like^ the recate
* for that cake."
Maloney was took with colic, McNulty complained of his head,
McFadden laid down on the sofa and soon he wished himself
dead ;
Miss JDaly fell down in hysterics and there she did wriggle and
shake,
"While every man swore he was poisoned through ating Mrs.
Fogarty's cake.
BALLENTOWN BRAE.
Come, all you young folks, I pray lend an ear,
And hear the sad fate of two lovers so dear;
Concerning young Jessie of Ballentown Brae,
And the Lord of Morelands that 'led her estray.
One night as this young lord he lay down to sleep,
Young Jessie came to him and o'er him did weep,
Saying, "My once blooming -cheeks they now moulder away,
Beneath the cold sods in Ballentown Brae. ' '
It was then that this young lord did instantly rise,
"It's the voice of my Jessie," he franticly cries;
"And if she is dead as the vision does say,
I'll lie down by her side in Ballentown Brae."
He called for a servant to saddle his steed,
Over high hills and mountains he rode at great speed,
Until he arrived at the noon hour of day,
At the cot of young Jessie on Ballentown Brae.
44
Jessie's old father stood at his own gate,
like a man much forlorn bewailing his fate :
The young lord drew near to afford him relief,
And begged he might ask him the cause of his grief.
"I had but one daughter,'' the old man did say,
"And now she lies sleeping in Ballentown Brae.
"She was as fair as a lily, as mild as a fawn,
As beauteous a maid as the sun e'er shone on;
She died broken hearted like one in despair,
A-wringing her hands and tearing her hair,
And all for a young lord that led her astray.
And decoyed her from home in Ballentown Brae."
"Then I am the traitor," the young lord he cried,
"But I really intended to have made her my bride."
And while he was talking a small sword he drew r ,
"With the heart of repentance he pierced himself through ;
And while he was dying these words he did say,
"Lay me down by her side in Ballentown Brae."
THE CROPPY BOY.
It was early, e&rly all in the spring.
The small birds whistling did sweetly sing,
Cha: from tree to tree.
And the song tl: was "Old Ireland's is free."
It was early, early last Tuesday night,
The Yeoman Cavalry gave me a fright ;
The Yeoman Cavalry was my downfall,
"When I was taken before Lord Cornwall.
It was in his guard house I did lay,
And in his parlor they swore my life away;
My sentence passed and with courage low,
Unto Dungannon I was forced to go.
And when I was marching through "Wexford street,
f.-usin Nancy I chanced to meet;
My own first cousin did me betray.
And for one guinea swore my life away.
When I was passing my father's door,
My brother William stood on the floor;
My aged father stood at the door,
And my tender mother her gray hair she tore.
45
My sister Mary in givut distress,
She rushed down stairs in her mourniji.tr di-
Five thousand guineas she would lay down
For to see me liberated in "Wexford town.
And when we were marching up Wexford hill,
Who would blame ine were I to cry my fill;
With a .guard behind and a guard before,
But my tender mother I'll see no more.
And when I was standing on the gallows high,
My aged father was standing nigh;
My aged father did me deny.
And the name he gave me was the Croppy Boy.
I chose the dark and I chose the blue,
I chose the pink and the orange, too ;
I forsook them all and did them deny,
I wore the green and for it I'll die.
It was in Dungannon this young man died,
And in Dungannon his body lies;
And all good people that this way pass
Say, "May the Lord have mercy , on the Croppy Boy!
McSORLEY'S TWINS.
Mrs. McSorley had fine bouncing tv.
Two fat little devils they were,
With squalling and bawling from morning till night,
They would deafen you, I do dec!;;
Be me sowl 'twas a caution the way they would scream,
Like the blast of a fisherman's horn;
Says McSorley, "Not one blessed hour have a slept,
Since them two little devils was born."
Chorus
With the beer and the whiskey the whole blessed night,
Sure, they couldn't stand up on their pins;
Such an elegant time at the christening we had,
Of McSorley 's tw r o beautiful twins.
Says Mrs. McSorley, "A christening we'll have,
For to give the two darlings a name."
"We will," says McSorley, "sure one they must get,
Something grand, to be sure, for that same."
For Godmothers Kate and Mag Murphy stood up,
46
And for godfathers came the two Flyii-
Johanna Maria arid Diagnaeious O'Mara
Was the name that they christened the twins.
When the christening was over the company began
With good whiskey to fill up their skins,
And the neighbors came in just to drink a good health
To MeSorley's two beautiful twins.
When old Mrs. Mullin had drank all her punch,
Sure, her limbs wouldn't hould her^at all,
,'ell in the cradle on top .of the twins,
set up a murthering squall.
uiey jumped up in a rage,
\nd she threatened Mrs. Mullin 7 s life;
oulcl Denny Mullin, "I'll bate the first man
" Tliat'd dare lay a hand on me wife."
Tli as and the ( leoghans had an ould gru.
And tin* MH.I-M! "d into the Flynns,
They upset the cradle, tipped over the bed,
the two little tv
THE LASS OF I) !E.
iking one mornis
Bright Phoebus so clearly did shine,
And the meadow larks warbled melodious,
While the rose in the valleys did twine;
It was there I beheld a fair maid.
It was down by a grove where I wandered,
A while to repose in the shade,
On my destiny there for to ponder,
I raised up oil my feet for to view her,
! those tender words I did say,
"Who are you, my fairest of creatures?
How far through this grove do you stray?
She answered, "Kind sir, I will tell you,
And the truth unto you I deplore,
a matter that's lately befell me,
My dwelling place is down 'in Dunmore.
"Oh, once I did love a bold v seaman,
And he, too my fond heart had gained,
No mortal 011 earth could love dearer,
But now he is crossing the main,
47
With Nelson, that hero of battle,
In the English navy so brave,
Where cannons and guns loud do rattle.
For to fight the proud French on the wave."
"Then perhaps that your true love -is drowned,
And he ne'er will return home again,
For many a man has fallen a victin*
With Nelson while crossing the main;
And the, same thing might happen to your love,
As it's happened to others before,
>o it's come with 'me now, .1 pray, darlinjr.
And leave the dark shades of Dunmore."
"Oh. how could I be so unfaithful
To a heart that is constant and true,
To leave my own father's dwelling
And to venture my fortunes with you ?
Oh, the people would call me unconstant,
For it's truly to him I am swor,
And true lovers ne'er, should be -parted,,
I'll wait for that lad in Dunmore."
Then says I, "My fair, tender blossom,
The spring time of life soon will be o'er,
And the October leaves wiil be falling,
They will fade the fair Rose of Dunmore."
When I found that her heart was a-yielding,
Like I've found it with others before,
Oh, I packed up my all for Re,rifralen,
And I stole the fair Rose of Dunmore.
TEDDY McGRAW.
Come, all of you Hibernian sons, I '11 tell you how the war begun,
It was caused by Mrs. McGraw and son, and that's the way the
war begun,
With me ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah my son was a Teddy McGraw.
Mrs. McGraw to the Captain did say, my son Teddy is bold
and brave,
Put on his head a golden cap blood and ounds, Teddy, what
do you think of that?
With me ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah my son was a Teddy McGraw.
Teddy sailed across the say and he fought in the war for many
a day,
48
lost his Ivgs at Timbuetoo,
"With me ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nali my son was a Teddy McGraw.
Tlion ]\!"vs. Mriiruw wen; >hore and she waited
there for seven years or more,
pied a ship far out at say, blood and ounds, it's a warning,
clear the way,
"With me ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah my son was a Teddy McGraw.
Teddy landed without any legs, in the place of them he had
wooden
When he 'cV embraced his mother a time or two she says, "Teddy,
dear, sure it is not you,
"With me ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah my son was a Teddy McGraw.
Oh, was you drunk or was you Mind when you left your two
legs far behind,
Or was you e sea and wore your legs off to
the ktt"
"With me ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah my son was a Teddy McGraw.
I was nather drunk or was I blind whin I left my two legs far
behind,
But when a mighty cannon ball, "WHOO ! it took me legs off,
brogues and all.
"With me ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah my son was a Teddy McGraw.
A mighty war I will proclaim again' the king and queen of
Spain,
And I will make them rue the day when they shot the legs off
me child away.
"With me ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah mv son was a Teddv McGraw.
AS I RODE DOWN THROUGH IRISHTOWN.
As I rode down through Irishtown one evening last July,
The mother of a soldier in tears I did espy,
Saying, "God be with you, Johnnie dear, although you are
far away.
For you my heart is breaking since you went to the Crimea.
"Oh, Johnnie. I gave you schooling, I gave you a trade likewise,
You need not have joined the army if you had taken my advise,
You need not go to face the foe where cannons loud do roar,
Think of the thousands that have fallen now upon that Russian
shore.
He joined the Fourteenth regiment, it was a splendid corp,
49
They landed honorable mention upon the Russian shore;
He fought in foreign engagements with the loss of b b day,
And there is many a mother shedding tears for sons that are
far away.
''You fought at Kurksharosko where you did not succeed,
Likewise at the valley .of Inkerman, where thousands there
did Weed,
You fought at Balaklava, too it was there you 'gained the day,
And my darling is a hero although he's far away.
''It was when we attacked Sebastapool, it was tl; M see
some play, ,
The very ground we stood upon it shook, the truth I say,
The clouds were black witli heavy smoke from bomb shells firing
there,
And 'thousands weltering in their blood that went to fight the
Bear.
"Thd English said they would gain the seas whate'er might
he their doom,
And thousands there a-falling, cut down in their youthful bloom,
There Paddy's sons with English guns their valor did display,
And together with the sons of France, thank God, we gained
the day.
"Had. your heart been made of iron for them you would shed
tears,
To see those heroes falling, cut down in their youthful years,
To see those heroes falling and weltering in their gore,
Far from their home and friends, my boys, upon that Russian
shore.
"So now T to end and finish and to conclude my song,
I thank the God above me for having survived so long,
Likewise my poor old mother, 'twas her I did adore,
And I hope, clear mother, to meet you safe in Garryowne once
more.
JACK RIGGERS.
Come, all you tender Christians, I hope you will lend ear,
And likewise pay attention to those few lines you'll hear,
For the murder of Mr. Swanton I am condemned to die,
Gn the twelfth day of November upon the gallows high.
My name it is Jac k Rogers, a name 111 ne'er deny,
50
Which leaves m\ aged parents in for to cry,
.ittte did they ever think, all in my youthful bloom,
That I wouh; nto New York to meet my awful doom.
parents reared me tenderly as you can plainly s
And constant good advice they used to give to me;
!:t walki- -ill bad company.
or the gallows would be the doom of me.
But it was in play-houses and saloons I used to take delight,
itly my comrades they would me there iuv:
I^oft til; old by them that the use of knives was free,
Arid I might commit some murder and hanged I ne'er would be.
;ton and his wife were walking down the street,
All in a drunken passion I chanced them for to
I own they did not harm me, the same I'll ne'er deny,
But Satan being so near me, I could not pass them by.
I staggered up against him, 'twas then he turned around,
Demanding half the sidewalk, also his share of ground,.
'Twas then I .drew that fatal knife and stabbed him to the heart,
i that beloved wife from her husband part.
It was then I went to Trenton, thinking to escape,
But the hand of Providence was before me. indeed I was too late,
It was there I was taken prisoner and brought unto the Toombs,
For to die upon the gallows, all in my youthful bloom.
I am thankful to the sheriff, who has been so kind to me,
Likewise my worthy counsellors, who thought to set me free,
And also to the clergyman, who brought me in mind to bear,
For to die a true penitent I solemnly do declare.
The day of my execution it was heartrending to
My sister came from Jersey to take farewell of me,
She tii rev,- herself into my arms and bitterly did cry,
Saying, '^Ijy well beloved brother, this day you have to die."
And now my joys are ended, from this wide world I must part,
For the murder of Mr. S wanton I'm sorry to the heart;
Come, all you young ambitious youths, a warning take from me,
Be guided by your parents and shun bad company.
SHAXTY BOY,
As I walked out one evening just as the sun went down,
So carelessly I wandered to a place called Stroner town,
51
There I- heard two maids conversing as slowly I passed 'by,
One said she loved her farmer's son, and the other her shanty
boy.
The one that loved her farmer's son those words I heard her say,
The reason why she loved him, at home with her he'd stay,
He would stay at home all winter, to the woods he would not go,
And when the spring it did come in his grounds he'd plow and
sow.
'All for to plow and sow your land,'' the other girl did say,
If the crops should prove a failure your debts you couldn't pay;
If the crops should prove a failure, or the grain market be low,
The sheriff often sells you out to pay the debts you owe.''
"As for the sheriff selling the lot, it does not me alarm,
For there 's no need of going in debt if you are on a good farm ;
You make your bread from off the land, need not work through
storms and rain,
While your shanty boy works hard each day his family to
maintain."
"I only love my shanty boy who goes out in. the fall,
He is both stout and hardy, -well fit for every squall;
With pleasure I'll receive him in the spring when he comes
home,
And his money free lie will share with me when your farmer's
son has none."
"Oh, why do you love a shanty boy, to the wild woods he
must go,
He is ordered out before daylight to work through rain and
snow,
While happy and contented my farmer's son can lie,
And tell to me s@me tales of love as thje^eold winds whistle by."
"I don't see why you love a farmer," the other girl did say,
' ' The most of them they are so green the cows would eat for hay ;
It is easy you may know them whenever they're in town,
The small boys run up to them savin sr, 'Rube, how are you
down?' ,
"For what I have said of your shanty boy I hope you will
pardon me,
And from that ignorant mossback I hope to soon get free,
And if ever I get rid of him for a shanty boy I will go,
I will leave him broken hearted his grounds to plow and sow."
52
iiOLIXE OF EDIXBURG TOWX.
Come, all young men and maidens, come listen to my rhyme,
It is all about a nice young girl that was scarcely in her prime,
beat the blushing roses, admired all around,
"\\~as lovely little Caroline of Edinburg town.
Young Henry was a Highland man, a-courting her lie came.
And when her parents came to know they did not like the same;
Young Henry was offended and tills to her did say,
"Rise up, my lovely Caroline, and with me run away."
Persuaded by y 011112; Henry, she put on her finest gown,
And soon was traveling on the road from Edinburg town;
ays to him, "Oh, Henry, dear, pray never on me frown,
Or you'll break the heart of Caroline of Edinburg town."
They had not been in London scarcely half a year
When hard-hearted Henry he proved to be severe;
Henry. "I'll go to sea, your parents did on me frown,
So without delay go beg your way to Edinburg town.
The fleet is fitting out and to Spithead is dropping down.
And I will join in that fleet to fight for King and Crown;
"The .gallant tar might feel the scar or in the waters: drown,
ivs she. "I never will return to Edinburg town."
Filled with grief without relief, this maiden she did go,
Right into the wood to eat such food as on the bushes grew:
Some strangers they did pity her and more did on her frown,
And some did say what made you stray from Edinburg town?
It was on a lofty jutting cliff this maid sat down to cry,
A -watching of King Henry's ships as they were sailing by;
She says, "Farewell, oh, Henry dear," and plunged her body
down.
And that's what became of Caroline of Edinburg town.
A note was in her bonnet that was found along the shore,
And in the note a lock of hair and those words, "I am no
mo :
I am fast asleep down in the deep, the fishes are watching
'round,
"What once was lovely Caroline of Edinburg town."
EXILE OF ERIX.
There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin.
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill,
53
For his country he siuhed when at twilight repairing',
To wander alone by the wind beaten hill;
But the day star attracted his eyes 7 sad devotion,
For it rose on his own native Isle of the ocean,
Wheere once in the flow of his youthful emotion,
He sang the bold anthem of Erin Go Bragh.
''Oli. s;id is my fate," said the heart broken stranger,
; ' The wild deer and roe to the mountains can flee,
But I have no refuge from famine or danger,
A home and a country remains not for me;
Oli, never again 'in the green shady bower.
Where my forefathers lived shall I spend the sweet hours,
Or cover my harp with the wild woven flowers.
And strike the .sweet numbers of Erin Go Bragh.
Oh, Erin, my country, though sad and forsaken,
In dreams I revisit thy 'sea-beaten shore,
But alas! in a far foreign land I awaken,
And sigh for the friends that can meet me no more ;
And thou, cruel fate, will thou never replace me,
In a mansion of peace where no perils can chase me?
Oh, never again shall my brothers embrace me,
They died to defend me or live to deplore,
Where is my cabin once fast by the wildwood,
Sisters and sire did weep for its fall,
Where is the mother that looked over my childhood,
And where is my bosom friend, dearer than all ?
Ah, my sad soul, long abandoned by pleasure,
Why did it dote on a fast .fading treasure ;
Tears like the rain may 'fall without measure,
But rapture and beauty they cannot recall.
But yet all its fond recollections suppressing,
One dying wish my fond bosom shall draw.
Erin, an exile bequeaths thee his blessing,
Land -of my forefathers, Erin Go Bragh :
Buried and cold when my heart stills its motion,
Green be thy fields fairest Isle of the ocean,
And the harp striking bard sings aloud with devotion,
"'Erin ]\Lavourneen, sweet 'Eriu Go Brazil,''
DEAR LAND.
When comes the day all hearts to weigh if they be staunch or
vile,
54
'd debt v ur mother isle
e heath is brown beneath, my native waters
But red o'er both shall spread ere [ am ftil.se to yon.
;r land, 'ere I am false to you.
i I behold your mountains bold, your nob 3 and
billed tide of grief and pride within my bosom tur^
I think of all your lon^ dark thrall, your ml rave and true,
And dash apart 1 .
Dear land, we must not or you.
randshv die<J his hoi. 'ized and handed him
.
jily crime in evil time v, hallows ;
aiii his i rwain were sent to pine and. rue,
And still they turned with hearts that burned in hopeless love
to
Dear land, in-h to you.
My boyish ear still < iiiius to hear of Erin's pride of you,
foot had da iute her independent sho
Of Chiefs loii'Z d*-ad who rose to head some gallant pal
Till all my aim on earth became tojstrike one Mow for you.
land, to strike one blow for you.
Wha i ; 1 1 er 1 1 ea ds divine,
>rk or word with voice or sword to follow them bo mine;
The breast that zeal and hair no terrors can subd'.
rtyrdom were sweet endured for
ndured for you.
,; FAITHLESS WIFE.
We< '!! me i. my own true 1"
-aid lie,
just returned from .
all for the sake of thee.
i might ha\e married a Queen's dau ?hfer,
For she would have married me.
But I forsook her vrown of gold.
And it was all for the sake of 11
If you could have married a Queen's daughter,
I'm sure you are much to hi;.
For I am married to a house carper
And I think lie's a nice youn^ man.
If you will leave your house carpenter,
And go along with me,
I will bring you where the grass grows <j
On the banks of the sweet Dundee.
Were I to leave my house carpenter,
And go along with thee,
What have you got to maintain me there,
Or to keep me from slaver;
I have five ships on the ocean wide,
All sailing for dry land,
With a hundred and ten of their jolly seamen,
To be at your command.
She picked up her darling babe,
id kisses gave it three,
Saying. ''Stay at home, my sweet little babe,
Keep your papa company."
They had not sailed two weeks, I believe,
I am sure it was not three,
Until this pretty fair maid began to weep,
And she wept most bitterly.
"Oh, do you weep for my gold?'' said he,
Or do you weep for iny store,
Or do you weep for your house carpenter,
That you left on yonder shore .
"I do not weep for your gold," said she,
"Or neither for your store,
But I do weep for my sweet little babe,
That I never will see more."
They had not .sailed three weeks, I believe,
I am sure it was not four,
Until her true love's ship it struck a rock,
And it sank to rise no more.
"Curse one, curse all," this fair maid cried,
"Oh, curse a sailor's life,
For they robbed me of my sweet little babe,
And deprived me of my life."
56
YQUXG CHARLOTTE.
mountain side in a v.'iid and lonely
three miles round except her father'
: light young swains woulc 1 gather
'at her k img and fair.
P!er father loved to see her d. a city belle.
the only child lie had and lie loved his daughter
well
It is \ew Year's Eve. the sun is down, H ,n her k-
Out at 1)i<> frosty window i'< the sleighs go by?
en miles off there is ft merry ball to:
<sir is cold and piercing, but her heart beats warm and
lit,
Yet Yearns her ] till a well known sound
she hears.
"When dashing up to the cotlage door young Charlie's sleigh
appears.
"Oh, daughter dear," the mother cries, "this blanket around
you fold,
It is a dreadful night, you know and you'll catch your death
of cold."
."Oh. nay. oh, nay!" fair Charlotte said, and she laughed like
ypsy qiii
"To ride in blankets muffled up I never shall be seen.
"My silken cloak is warm enough, you know it is lined through-
out,
ides I have a silken shawl to tie my neck about."
Her bonnet and her gloves were on. she jumped into the sleigh,
And away they rode by the mountainside and over the hills
away.
life in the sound of the merry bells as o : er the hills
they go.
What a creaking doth the runners make as they bite the frozen
snow.
"With muffled face all silently, five cold long miles they passed,
AYhen Charlie in a few frozen words the 'silence broke at last.
''.Such a night as this I never knew, the reins I scarce ca*i hold,"
"When Charlotte said in a feeble voice,* "I 1 am exceeding cold."
He cracked his whip and hurried his steeds more swiftly than
fore,
57
Until at length five oilier miles they quickly did pass o'er.
At length said diaries. "How fast the ice is gath.'-nnu- on my
brow,
Young Charlotte said in a feeble voic<\ "I ani growing warmer
now.
Still on they <_!'lkl a the frosty air and in the cold star-
light,
Until at length the village inn and the ball-room were in sight.
They reached the place and Charles jumped out and held his
hands for her,
"AVliy sit you there like a monument, have you HJO power to
stir?"
He asked her once, he asked her twice, she answered not a word.
He asked her for her hand again, and yet she never stirred.
He took her hands within his own oh, God, they were cold as
stone,
He tore the mantle from her brow, the cold stars on her shone ;
Then quickly to the lighted hall her lifeless- form he bore,
Young Charlotte was a frozen corpse and never spoke no more.
He sat himself down by her side, and the bin did flow,
He said, "My dear intended bride, you no more will sorrow-
know.
He threw his arms around her neck and kissed her marble
brow.
And his thoughts went back to the place where she said, "I
am growing warmer now,''
He put the corpse into the sleigh and quickly hurried home,
And when he readied the cottage door, oh, how her parents
mourned !
They mourned for the loss -of their daughter dear, and young
Charlie mourned for his bride,
Tie mourned until his heart did break and they slumber side
bv side.
THE CLIPPER SHIP "DRiEADX AUGHT."
"We have a flash packet, she's a packet of fame,
She belongs to New York and the "Dreadnaught" is her name;
She is bound for the ocean where the stormy winds blow,
Bound away on the "Dreaduaught" to the Westward we'll go.
Now we are laying at the Liverpool dock,
58
AYhere the boys and. 3 on the pier-heads do flock.
And they gave us tli s while their tears down did flow,
a right ' ? to the Westward we'll pro.
The " Dreadnauight " is ]yii!-_> in the river Mersy,
Waiting for the tug 'Constitution*' to tow us to sea,
She tows around the Black Rock where the Mersy does flow,
Bound away on the " Dreadnaught ' ' to the Westward we'll go.
And now we are howling 1 on the wild Irish s
AY here the sailors and passenger
ihe sailors are perched on the yard arms, you know.
Bound away on the "Dreadi-.- lo the AYestward we'll go.
Xow nn so wide,
AYhere th< ; billows dash against her black side.
And the sailors off watch are all sleeping below,
Bound away on the "Dreadna light'' to the AYestward we'll go.
And now we are sailing off the banks of Xew Foundland,
AYhere the md the bottom is sand,
AYhere the fish of the ocean they swim to and fro,
Bound away on the "Dreadnaught 1 ' to the AYestward we'll go.
And now we are howling off Long Island's green shore,
AYhere the pilot he hards us as he's oft done before,
fill away your main top sails, port your main tack also,
:'pool packet. Lord Hod, let her
And now we are riding in Xr-w York Harbor once more,
I will; go and see Nancy, she's the girl I adore,
To the parson I'll take her, my bride for to be,
Farewell to the " Dreadnanghl:" and the deep stormy sea.
TILE DAY THAT I PLAYED BASEBALL.
Oh, -me name it is 'Houlihan, I'm a man that influential,
I mind my business, stay at home me wants are few and small;
But the other day a uaim 1 did come, they were filled with whis-
In and rum,
And they took me out in the broiling sun to play a game of ball.
They made me carry all the bats. I thought they'd set me
i zy,
They put me out in the center field, sure I paralyzed them all:
AYlien I put up me hands to stop a fly, holy ninrther, it struck
me in the eye,
And they laid me. out by th to die on the day that I
played baseball.
59
There was O'Shaughnessy of the second nine, lie was throwing
them underhanded,
He put a twirl upon them and I couldn't strike them at all;
The umpire he called strikes on me; "What's that?" says I;
"You're out/' says he,
Bad luck to you ? Shaughnes$y, and the way that you twirled
the ball.
Then I went to bat and I knocked the ball I thought to San
Francisco,
Around the bases three times three, by Heavens, I run them all,
When the gang set up a terrible howl, saying, "O 'Houlihan,
you struck a foul,
And they rubbed me clown with a Turkish towel on the day
that I played baseball.
The catcher swore by the Jack of Trumps that lie saw me steal-
ing bases,
And fired me into a keg of beer, I loud for help did call;
I got roaring, staving, stone-blind drunk, I fell in the gutter, I
lost my spunk,
I. had a head on me like an elephant's trunk on the day that I
played baseball.
The reporters begged to know my name and presented me with
a medal,
They asked me for my photograph to hang upon the wall/
Saying, "0 'Houlihan you won the game," though me head was
sore and shoulder lame,
And they sent me home on a cattle train on the day that I
played baseball.
THE LAND WHERE THE SHAMROCKS GROW.
There is an Island that's famed in her story,
Sweet poets have sung in her praise
Her verses have no brighter glory,
But her sons have seen happier days:
Let an Irishman roam the world over,
No matter where'er he may be,
He never will forget dear old Ireland,
The Emerald Gem of the Sea.
Chorus
For some love the land of the thistle,
Or England with her wild red rose,
But our hearts are away in old Ireland,
The land where the Shamrock grows.
60
Her sons they are one and true hearted,
Pier daughters are virtuous and true,
Though pas.sing through time of great trouble,
Give the children of Ireland their due;
And her boys in the ranks of a soldier,
Have many hard victories gained,
They never turned tail on the foeman,
They'd sooner be found 'mong the slain.
There has been sad trouble of late in old Ireland,
But don't give poor Pat all the blame.
His deeds never tarnished his honor.
It keeps from his cheeks the red blushes of shame;
But the deeds of the dark depredators,
And quarrels with landlords about rent,
If it were not for those paid agitators,
You'd soon find old Ireland content.
May Ireland soon cease her repining'.
And her sons be content with their lot.
Each dark cloud has a silvery lining,
So may peace reign in mansion and cot;
Let Ireland's dark day soon be over,
And peace in our country reign,
And make us more friendly to England,
And be true sisters again.
LOST ON THE LADY ELGIN.
Up from the poor man's cottage, forth from the mansion door,
Sweeping across the water and echoing along the shore,
Caught by the morning breezes, borne on the evening gale,
Came at the dawn of morning a sad and solemn wail.
Refrain
Lost 011 the Lady Elgin, sleeping to wake no^more,
Numbering in death five hundred that failed to reach the shore.
Sad was the wail of children, weeping for parents gone,
Children that slept at evening, orphans woke at. morn;
Sisters for brothers weeping, husbands for missing wives,
These were the ties that were severed by those five hundred lives.
Staunch was the noble steamer, precious the freight- she bore,
Gaily they loosed their cables a few short hours before,
Proudly/she swept our harbor, joyfully rang the bell,
Little they thought ere morning it would peal so sad a knell.
61
ROSE O'GRADY.
Just down around the corner of a street where I reside,
There lives the sweetest little girl that I have ever spied;
Her name is Rose O'Grady and I don't mind telling you,
That she's the sweetest little Rbse that the garden ever grew,
Chorus
Sweet Rosie O'Grady, my dear little Rose,
She's my steady lady, most every one knows,
And when we are married, how happy we'll be,
For I love Rosie O'Grady and Rosie O'Grady loves me.
I never, shall forget the clay she promised to be mine,
As we sat telling love tales in the good old summer time;
It was on her finger that 1 slipped a small engagement ring,
While overhead the little birds this song they seemed to sing.
SINCE JAMES WENT ON THE STAGE.
My name is Patrick Hogan, in this city I reside,
I raised a son to manhood and he was my joy and pride,
But now play actors and such trash does all his time engage,
Me carpet is tore and me house is in a roar,
Since James went on the stage.
Qhorus-
He wears long shoes and striped socks.
And he sa^vs they're all the rage:
Me carpet is tore and me house is in a roar
Shice James went on the stage.
He has me hat and coat all spiled anl everything is broke,
He druv his fut thru the flure when he was tryiu' to dance the
lively moke.
He says he'll make a terrible hit and he tells me he's immense
And he took the ould woman's petticoat to play the Nagur
Wench :
He sings, "Ta-ta and tra-la-la-le, ' ' just like a bird in a cage,
And he's set me nearly crazy since lie went upon the stage.
THE SONG THAT REACHED MY HEART.
I sat 'midst a mighty throng within a palace grand,
In a city far beyond the sea, in a distant foreign land,
62
I lis T I he grandest strain my ear had ever heard,
Enraptured, charmed, amazed I was ; my inmost soul was stirred.
I looked on the singer fair, my heart was at her feet
She s;r!ii> of love, the old, old theme, in accents low and sweet;
.And the i: ig a song that made the teardrops start.
She sang a song, a song of home, a song that reached my neart.
That night I never shall forget, that night with its pleasure and
pain,
I think of the singer, I think of the song, and wish I could live
it again :
In fancy again I recall the scene with its splendor bright,
The mighty throng, the palace grand oh, the mem'ry of that
night !
fancy it may have been, but never had I heard
A song that thrilled me o'er like this, like this so strangely
stirred :
The mem'ries of that night of bliss will never from me part,
She sang a song of "Home, Sweet Home," the song that reached
my heart. ^
Home, Home, Sweet, Sweet Home. She sang a song of Home,
-Sweet Home,
The son' that reached mv heart.
BERNARD RILEY.
My name is Owen Riley, I have a son that sets me crazy;
He comes home every night singing- blackguard songs,
That he learnt at the free and azy.
CHonis * -
He's gone, lie's gone, the Lord knows where,
Yes, he's gone to the divil entirely:
He tells me that he's looking for the lost Charlie R<
God help you, Bernard Riley.
He came home the other night about two o'clock in the morning,.
He wanted strawberries and ice cream for his supper,
"When, they brought him cabbage and corned mate,
He flung it ont in the gutter.
He came home the other night with a pair of boxing gloves,
Struck his sister across the legs with a -poker ;
He had a ould deck of cards and he~ wanted me to play
Sancho, pedro, seven-up, with the joker.
He went out the other day and he pawned me Sunday pants,
For to go and lay a wager,
And he took me down in the old Third ward.
To fight again a big buck Naggur.
THE HAT ME FATHER WORE.
I am Paddy Miles, an Irish boy, from far across the sea,
For singing or for dancing, oh, I think I can please ye,
I can sing and dance with any man as I did in days of yore,
And on Patrick's day I long to wear the hat me Father wore.
Chorus
It's ould but it's beautiful, the best you ever seen,
It was worn for more than ninety years in that little isle so
green ;
From me Father's great ancestors it descended with galore,
It's a relic of ould dteceiicy, it's the hat me Father wore.
I bid you all good evening, good luck to you, I say,
And when I'm on the ocean I hope for me you'll pray;
I am going to me happy home in a place called Ballymore,
To be welcomed back to Paddy's land with the hat we Father
wore.
And when I do return again, the boys and girls to see,
I hope that with ould Erin's style you'll kindly welcome me,
And sing me songs of Ireland to cheer me more and more,
And to make me Irish heart feel glad with the hat me Father
wore.
TIDY IRISH LAD.
I'm a tidy bit of an Irish lad, as you can plainly see,
And I like a drop of the creature when I go out upon a spree ;
1 like a drop of the creature in a good old Irish style,
And a better drop cannot be had than is sold iii the Emerald
Isle.
Chorus
Far away from our native country, me boys, we sometimes roam,
"We won't forget we are Irishmen, although we're far from home.
Oh, they say no Irish need apply, it is a thing I don't under-
stand,
4
For what would the English army do if it were not for Paddy's
land :
r they went to battle they never were known to win,
Except when the ranks they were filled up with the best of
Irish mi
It' was at the battle of Waterloo, Sebastapool the same,
The sons of Paddy's land they showed that they were game;
They gave three hearty cheers, me boys, in a good old Irish style,
And we walloped the Russians at Inkerman. did the boys of the
NO IRISH WASTED HERE.
I am an Irish laborer, both hearty, stout and strong,
Idleness I never loved, to our race it don't belong;
I have still the strength and will to toil, for the wants of life
are dear,
But I'm told wherever I ask for work, "No Irish wanted here."
Yon may think it a misfortune to be christened Pat or Dan,
But to me it is a blessing to be called art Irishman;
I may live to see the day, it will come, oh, never fear,
"When ignorance gives way to sense and you'll welcome Irish
here.
"When, your country was in danger a few short years ago,
Yon were not so particular then who would go and fight the foe;
When men were wanted in the ranks to preserve her rights so
dear.
Among the bravest of the brave was our Irish volunteers.
Oh. let your hearts be generous, help Paddy from the wall,
For there's but one flod above us who knows and loves us all;
I may live to see the day, it will come, oh, never fear,
When ignorance gives way to sense and! you'll welcome Irish
here.
THE BELLS OF SHANDON.
With deep affection and recollection,
I often think of those Shandon Bells,
Whose sounds so wild would in days of childhood
Fling over my fancy their magic spells;
65
On tliis I ponder where'er I wander,
And thus grow fonder, Sweet Cork of thee,
While thy Bells of Shandon sound far more grand on
The pleasant waters of the River Lee.
I've heard bells chiming full-many a clime in,
Tolling sublime in cathedral shrine,
While at glib rate brass tongues would vibrate,
But all their music spoke naught like thine;
For memory dwelling on each proud swelling.
Of the belfry knelling its bold notes free,
Made the Bells of Shandon sound far more grand on
The pleasant waters of the River Lee.
I've heard bells tol^ng old Adrian Mole in,
Their thunders rolling from the Vatican,
With Cymbals glorious swinging uproarious,
In the gorgeous turrets of Notre Dame;
But thy sounds are sweeter than the Dome of Peter,
Flings over the Tiber pealing solemnly.
Oh, the Bell of Shandon sound far more grand on
The pleasant waters of the River Lee.
There's a bell in Moscow while on Tower and Kiosko,
In St. Sophia the Turkman gets,
And loud in air calls men to prayer,
From the tapering summit of tall Minarets;
Such an empty phantom I freely grant them,
But there's an anthem more dear to me,
'Tis the Bells t)f Shandon that sound so grand on
The pleasant waters of the River Lee.
THAT TUMBLE-DOWN SHACK IN ATHONB.
I'm a long way from home and my thoughts ever roam
To ould Erin far over the sea;
For my heart it is there where the skies are so fair,
And ould Ireland is calling for me.
Chorus
Oh, I want to go back to that tumble-down shack,
Where the wild roses bloom 'round the door,
Just to pillow my head in that ould trundle bed,
Just to see my ould mother once more.
Theres' a bright gleaming light, guiding me home tonight,
Down the long road of white cobble stone;
66
Down the road that leads Lack to that tumble-down shack,
. To that tumble-down shack in Athlone.
There are eyes that are sad as they watch for a lad
In the old-fashioned town of Athlone ;
And I pray for the clay when I'm sailing a
To ould Ireland, and mother, my own.
THE REGULAR AiniY. OH.
Three years ago this very day we went to Governor's Isle,
For to stand ferninst the cannon in true military style:
Seventeen American dollars each month we VI surely get,
For to carry a gun and bayonet with a regimental step;
We had our choice of going to the army or to jail,
Of up the Hudson river with a cop to take a sail:
We mustered up our courage and witli bravery did w r e go,
Oh. we cursed the day we went away with the Regular Army Oh.
Chorus
There was Sergeant John McCaffery and Captain Donahue,
They would make us march and toe the mark in gallant Com-
pany Q:
Oh, the drums would roll upon my soul, this is the style we'd go,
Forty miles a day on beans and hay in the Regular Army Oh.
We went to Arfzona to fight the Indians there,
We came near being bald-headed, but they never got our hair;
We lay among the ditches in the dirty yellow mud,
And w^e never saw an onion, a turnip or a spud;
On the telegraphic wire we walked to Mexico,
And we blessed the day we skipped away from the Regular
Army Oh.
W T c are as dry as army herrings and as hungry as a Turk,
The boys along the street cry out, "Soldiers, would you work?"
We would ship into the navy to plow the raging sea,
But salt water sure we could not endure, it would never agree
with me:
We'll join the Politicians and then we'll be well fed,
We'll sleep no more upon the ground, but in a feather bed;
And if a war it should break out and they'd call 011 us to go,
We'd hire Italian substitutes for the Regular Army Oh.
67
KITTY, THE WICKLOW GIRL.
God bless you all, I just came out to have a little chat,
I am Irish sure, but that's no s*in, I'm a rollicking- merry Pat;
The ladies' hearts I captivate, as for them my stick I twirl,
But Grahmachree, the maid for me is Kitty, the Wicklow girl.
Chorus
For her step is light, her eyes are bright, her teeth are like
the pearl,
Arrah Grahmachree, the maid for me is Kitty, the Wicklow girl.
Her fortune it is but small to him who gains her hand,
But her heart is pure and that's worth all the diamonds in
the land;
Oh, had I all the riches of any great Lord or Earl,
I am very sure I would still be poor without me Wicklow girl.
^ may talk about their Fandangoes that the ladies hop in
France,
But let them come to Wicklow, they'll see a rale old country
dance ;
Both rich and poor they nettle the f lure while their Kipp eens
they do twirl,
Oh, my heart grows big when I dance a jig with Kitty, the
Wicklow girl.
THE TWENTY-POUND DO&.
My name it is Dennis Mulcahey and I live in this town of
renown,
I made a /bet with one Terrence Mahaffey that my bulldog
could wallop the town;
He said he knew one Ted 'Murphy tnat lived way down below
in the bog,
Had an old black and tan Irish terrier that would murder me
twenty-pound dog.
Chorus
Then, gentjemen, he was a dandy until Murphy, the dirty old
tog,
Came along with his terrier called Dandy faith! he mur-
dered me twenty-pound dog.
Then I brought out my bold twenty pounder and he was gay
as a king,
He eyed Murphy's black and tan terrier and then they chassede
68
'round the ring:
They fought for an hour and a quarter, way down in Murphy's
old
But the : nlked off with the laurels, while a corpse lay
my twenty-pound clog.
F swore that I would have 8 nid I off with me
;d me h.
And I went for the whole Murphy faction from big Ted down
to young Pat:
Now I own 1: and tan* terrier and I drove them clean
out of the !
And all the way home I cried vengoa. /eance for me
;Hy-pound d
O'BRIEN.
Oil, s mile of the beautiful morn,
i the curtain of night.
And the voice or -
Wh' m to shine with delight.
All nafui lingers i\\ silent repose,
And thi unmer is calm f
Yv T hi: >nder if Shamus e'er knows
How sad and unhappy I am.
Clwrus
Oh, Shamus O'Bricn. why don't you come home,
You don't know how happy I'd be:
I have but one darling wish and that is that you'll come,
And forever be happy with me.
I'll smile when you smile. I will weep when you weep,
I'll give you a kiss for a 1.
And all the fond vows I have made you, I'll keep,
AVliat more can I than th'
and sue 1 : i'ul charm?
That your heart cannot leave it for me ?
Oh, why did I let you go out of my arms.
Like a bird that was caged but is i
Oh, Shamus O'Brien. I'm loving you yet,
And my heart is still trusting and kind.
It was you 'who first took it. then can you forget
And love for another you'd find?
Oh, no, if you break it with sorrow and pain,
69
I'll then have a duty to do,
If you bring 1 it to me Til mend it again,
And trust it, dear Shamus, with you.
MY DAD'S DINNER PAIL.
Preserve that old kettle so blackened and worn,
It belonged to me Father before I was born;
It hangs in the corner beyant on a nail.
It is an emble^n of labor, my dad's dinner pail.
For it glittered like silver so sparkling and bright,
I am fond of this treasure that held the wee bite;
Through summer and winter, through snow, rain and hail,
I've carried this treasure called dad's dinner pail.
When the bell rang for dinner me father would come down,
And eat with the workmen below on the ground ;
He'd share with the laborer, on that I'll go bail,
You'd ne'er find the bottom of dad's dinner pail.
There is a place for the coffee and one for the bread,
Corn beef and potatoes and oft, it was said,
.Go fill it with porter, with beer or with ale,
The sup would taste sweeter from dad's dinner pail.
TWO IRISH LABORERS.
"We are two Irish laborers, -as you can plainly see,
From Donegal we came when small unto America;
We got work on the railroad, but sure it didn't pay,
80 we struck a job to carry the hod for two and a half a day.
Chorus
Pat, be quick, bring up the brick, the mortar, too, likewise,
Then push along and sing a song as up the ladder you rise;
I always thought it bully fun to be a mason's clerk,
And have the man on top of the house for to do all the work.
When we go back to Ireland, that dear old Emerald Isle,
Where the stranger finds a welcome and is greeted with a smil3,
Then if you ever want a friend you needn't try too hard,
You'll always find one in the Irish boys that carried the hod,
70
THE TRAMP'S LAMENT.
fin a broken down man without courauv or cash,
My clothes are all tattered and torn ;
\<>1 a friend in this wide dreary world ha\> I got.
And I wish I had n >rn.
In vain I have sought for employment,
ping out in the str< and damp,
I've been stared in the
Oh, pity the fate of a train p.
Refrain
They t'll rm> go work for a liviiiLT.
And not through the country to stamp;
But wherever I ask for employment.
They say they've no work for a tramp.
The other night coming down on thellock Island line,
A poor man. weary and frrotsore.
Spied an empty ' standing on the track,
He jumped in and closed up the door.
He had not rode there but three miles or
When a brakemaii came 'round with his lamp.
He was thrown from the. box car and killed by the train,
Be' was on: :ip.
The rich man a! home by his ^ed. cheery fire.
With plenty and bountiful store.
And were 1 or the crumbs of his board.
He'd clou- me away from his door.
But, kind folks, if you'll lisi ret I'll unfold.
It's tli:. .ire not scan
For there's many an honest heart beating
eath the seedy old coat of a tramp.
JEXXIE, THE FLOWER OF KILDARE.
dreaming of Erin -tonight and the little white cot by ihe
Where Jennie, my darling, now dwells; she's the fairest and
rest to me :
1 know that she waits for me day aft.n- day, and my heart
ever longs to be there,
To greet her, my darling, my own. sweK Jennie, the flower of
Kildare.
CJio/'us
I know that she is waiting for me.
And my heart ever longs to be there;
To greet her, my darling my own,
Sweet Jennie, the Flower of Kildare.
I am waiting her sweet face to see, while parted I linger in pain,
But soon will my heart beat with joy, o'er the sea I'll be sailing
again ;
And once more her sweet kiss of love to receive, for her the
sea storms I would dare,
To greet her, my darling, my own, sweet Jennie, the Flower
of Kildare.
MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME.
The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky home,
'Tis summer, the darkies are gay;
The corn-top's ripe and the meadow's in the bloom,
While the birds make music all the day.
The young folks roll on the little cabin floor,
All merry, all happy and bright;
By'm-by hard times comes a -knocking at the door,
Then my old Kentucky home, good-night.
Chorus
Weep no more, my lady, Oh, weep no more today!
W T e will sing one song for the old Kentucky home,
For the old Kentucky home, far away. *
They hunt no more for the 'possum and tlie coon,
On the meadow, the hill and the shore;
They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon,
On the bench by the old cabin door.
The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart,
With sorrow where all was delight:
The time has come when the darkies have to part.
Then my old Kentucky home, good-night.
The head must bow and the back will have to bend,
Wherever the darkey may go :
A few more days, and the trouble all will end,
In the field where the sugar canes grow ;
A few more days for to tote the weary load,
No matter, 'twill never be light;
A few more days till we totter on the road,
Then my old Kentucky home, good-night.
72 v .
DARLING XELLY GJ?
1 here's a lo 1 ley on the old Kentucky shore,
\V: \\ed many happy hours away,
A-sitting and a-singing by the little cottage door,
Wli- -:iy darling Xelly Gray.
Chorus
Oh. ily Gray, they have taken you away,
And I'll ay darling- any more,
I'm a-sitting by the river and I'm weeping all the d;
For you've gone from the old Kentucky sh
"When tlie moon had climbed the mountain, and the stars were
too,
Then I'd take my darling Xelly Gray,
And we'd float down the river in my little red canoe,
AVhile my banjo so sweetly I would play.
are getting blinded, and I cannot see my way,
Hark! Th knocking at the door,
Oh. I hear 1; . and I see my Xelly Gray,
well to the old Kentucky shore.
Oh, my darling Xelly Gray, up in heaven there, they
That they'll never take you from me any more:
I'm a coming coining, as the angels clear the way,
II to the old Kentucky shore.
THE FALLIXG OF THE PIXE.
(Square Timber Loggi:
Come, all young men a-wantiug of courage bold undaunted,
Repair ie shanties before your youth's decline,
For spectatos ill ponder and gaze on you with wonder.
For your n ;-ds the thunder in the falling of the pine.
-hanty i -1 lumbering our occupation,
in has his station, some for to score and line,
It is nine foot of a Mock we will bust at every knock.
And the wolves,, and bears we'll shock at the falling of the
pine.
When the day it is a-breaking from our awak-
ened,
Breakfast being over-, our axes we will grind.
Into the woods we do advance where our axes sharp do glance,
And like brothers we commence for to fall the stately pine.
73
For it's to our work we go through the cold and stormy snow,
And it \s there we labor gayly till bright Phoebus does not
shine ;
Then to the shanties we'll go in and songs of love we'll sing,
And we'll make the valleys ring at the falling of the pine.
When the weather it grows colder, like lions we're more bolder,
And while this forms grief for others it's but the least of
mine.
For the frost and snow so keen, it can never keep us in,
It can never keep us in from the falling of the pine.
Whc'ii the snow is all diminished and our shanty work all fin-
ished.
Banished we are all for a little time,
And then far apart we're scattered until the booms are gathered,
Until the booms are gathered into handsome rafts of pine.
When we get to Quebec, oh, me boys, we'll not forget,
And our whistles we will wet with some brandy and good
wine ;
With fair maidens we will boast till our money is all used,
And, rny boys, we'll ne'er refuse to go back and fall the pine.
TWO LITTLE GIRLS IX BLUE.
An old man gazed on a photograph that he'd worn in his locket
for years.
His nephew asked him the reason why that picture it-caused
him tears; ^
"Come listen, my lad, and a story I'll tell, a story that's strange
but true.
Your father and I at school one day met two little girls in blue.
Chorus
Two little girls in blue, lad, two little girls in blue,
They were sisters and we were brothers and learned to love
the two,
And one of those girls in blue, lad, had gained your father's
heart,
Became your mother, I married the other, but we have drifted
apart.
''That picture is one of those girls," he said, "and to me she
was once a wife,
I thought her unfaithful, we quarreled and parted that night
for life ;
74
My fancy of jealousy wronged a heart, a heart that was good
For two better "iris there never lived than those two little
girls in blue.' 7
ALLANAH IS WAITING FOR ME.
I am always light hearted and easy, not a care in the wide world
have I,
Because I am loved by a Ooleen I couldn't help like if I'd try;
She lives away over the mountains where the little thrush
in the. tree,
In a cabin all covered, .with ivy my Eileen is waiting for me.
Chorus
It's over, yes over the mountain where the little 1 thrush sings
in the tree,
In a cabin all covered with ivy my Eileen is waiting for me.
The day I bid good-bye to Eileen, that day I will never forget,
How the tears bubbled up from their slumber, I fancy I'm see-
ing them yet;
They looked like the pearls in the ocean as she wept those tears
of love,
Saying, "Barney, my boy, don't forget me until we meet again
here or above."
Though mountains and seas may divide us and friends like the
flowers come and go,
Still these thoughts of my Eileen will cheer me and comfort
wherever I go,
For the imprints of love and devotion, surrounded by thoughts
that are pure,
"Will serve as a guide to the sailor while sailing the wild ocean
o'er.
BROWN GIRL.
When first to this country I came as a stranger,
I placed my affection on a maid that was young,
She being young and tender, her waist small and slender
Kind nature had formed her for my overthrow.
On the bank of a river where first I beheld her,
She seemed like fair Venus or some other queen,
Her eyes shone like diamonds Or stars brightly beaming,
Her cheeks like two roses or blood upon snow.
It was her cruel parents that first caused my ruin, <
Because they were rich and above my degree,
But I will do my endeavor, my fair one, to gain her,
Although she belongs to a high family.
She says, "Lovely Johnny, don't be melancholy,
If you will be loyal, I'll surely prove true,
There is no other inferior that will e'er gain my favor,
On the banks of a river I'll wander with you."
Xow since I have gained her I am contented forever,
I'll put rings on her fingers and gold in her hair,
With diamonds and pearls "I will deck my Brown Girl,
And in all kinds of splendor I'll style you, "My Dear."
YANKEE DOODLE DAXDV.
I have a daughter and you'd think she was a lady,
Her Christian name is Sarah Jane, but for short they call her
Sadie ;
She has a sweetheart come to see her nights, his moustache it is
sandy,
And the only tune he whistles right is "Yankee Doodle Dandy."
Chorus
Oh, he comes around 'most every night and brings her taffy
candy,
And the only time he whistles right is "Yankee Doodle Dandy."
He brought her a concertina box and she began practicing,
The music would pierce you through and through, it was really
agonizing,
But if j[ find him here again, with him no words I'll bandy,
I'll take the poker and I'll smash this Yankee Doodle Dandy.
MULCAHY'S SISTER KATE.
You have heard me sing of a hero bold. Mulcahy was his name,
And, faith, he had <a sister, too, that was noted for her fame;
She was chief cook in a boarding house and at making hash was
great,
76
She came^from the county Donegal and her maiden name was
Kate.
Chorus
She is tall and thin with crooked shins, her age is twenty-eight,
Her face is red and so is the head of Mulcahy 's sister Kate.
She trates me like a lady when her I go to see,
She takes me in the parlor and serves me cake and tea,
And oft times have I sat till it was very late,
A-whispering my love stories to Mulcahy 's sister Kate.
MICHAEL JAMES.
I'm i - as can be.
Faith, there is merriment in me.
And I'll try and tell you every one;
"When I came home from work this morn,
I found I was the father of a son.
Ten years we've been married this very day.
And we never had a chick or a child;
The thoughts of this gives me such joy,
Take me word for it, I think I'm going wild.
Chorus
For he has a puggy little nose,
And there's dimples in his toes,
And we're going to give a party and a bail;
And well name him Michael James,
' Put his picture in a frame,
And we'll hang it in the parlor on the wall.
When a man he grows you'll see,
A president he'll he,
I would never let him run for Alderman:
I'll buy a horse and dray,
And we'll drive it every day,
You would never find his, equal in the land.
He '11 not be a fool, for we 11 send him off to school,
AVhere they'll teach him how to row and play ball,
And when ho :rets some money
"Well have his picture taken.
And well hang it in the parlor on the wall.
77
MULOAHY'S HOME AGAIN.
I come with news tonight, me boys, just listen for a while,
Me song will bring delight, me boys, for it makes me grin and
smile ; ,
You have heard about that famous man that left us all in pain,
Sure he is back at last all safe and sound, Mulcahy's home again.
Chorus
For he's big and stout and walks about in a dress both nate
and clane,
Says I with glee, "Oh, can this be, Mulcahy's home again?"
I met him down on Chambers street a week ago today,
And when lie shook me by the hand I thought I'd faint away;
He is big and stout and he walks about in a dress both nate
and clane,
Says I with glee, "Oh, can this be, Mulcahy's home again?"
He talks no more of politics, he says he has had enough,
To stand their capers and their tricks one must be bold and
tough ;
He may have been in foreign climes, in Jersey or in Spain,
But what care I where'er he's roamed when he is safe at home
again.
LISTEN TO THE MOCKING BIRD.
I'm dreaming now of Hallie,
Sweet Hallie, sweet Hallie,
I'm dreaming now of Hallie,
For the thought of her is one that never dies;
She's sleeping in the valley,
The valley, the valley,
She's sleeping in the valley,
And the mocking bird 3 singing where she lies.
Chorus
Listen to the mocking bird,
Listen to the mocking bird,
The mocking bird still singing o'er her grave;
Listen to the mocking bird,
Listen to the mocking bird,
Still singing where the weeping willows wave.
Ah, well I yet remember,
Remember, remember,
78
Ah, well I yet remember,
When we gathered in the cotton, side by side;
'Twas in the mild September,
t ember, Sept em
'Twas in the mild September,
And the mocking bird was singing- far and wide.
\Ylum the charms of spring awaken,
Awaken, awaken,
When the charms of spring awaken.
And the mocking bird is singing on the bough,
I feel like one forsaken,
Forsaken, forsaken,
I feel like one forsaken,
Since mv Hallie is no longer with me now.
SEEING NELLIE HOME.
In the sky the bright stars glittered,
On the bank the pale moon shone;
And 'twas from Aunt Dinah's quilting party,
I was seeing' Nellie home.
Refrain -
I was seeing Nellie home,
I v ig Nellie home,
And 'twas from Aunt. Dinah's quilting party,
I was seeing Nellie home.
On my arm <i soft hand rested,
Rested light as ocean foam.
And 'twas from Annt Dinah's quilting paYty,
I was seeing Nellie home.
On my lips a whisper trembled,
Trembled till it dared to come.
And 'twas from Annt Dinah's quilting party,
I was seeing Nellie home.
On my life new hopes were dawnii
And those hopes have liv'd and grown,
And 'twas from Aunt Dinah's quilting party,
I was seeing Nellie home.
COME BACK TO ERIN.
Come back to Erin Mavonrneen, Mavonrneeii,
79
Come back again to the land of thy birth,
Come with the shamrocks and spring time, Mavourneen,
And it's Killarney will ring- with our mirth;
Sure, when we lent yon to beautiful England,
Little we thought of the long winter days,
Little we thought of the hush of the star shine,
Over the mountains the brush and the braes.
Refrain
Come back to Erin, Mavourneen, Mavourneen,
Come back again to the land of thy birth,
Come with the shamrocks and spring time, Mavouisneeii,
And it's Killarney will ring with our mirth.
*
Over the green seas, Mavourneen, Mavourneen,
Long shone the white sjdls that bore thee away,
Riding the white waves that bright summer morning',
Just like a may flower afloat on the bay.
Oh, how my heart* sank when clouds came between us,
Like a gray mist, the rain falling down,
Hid from my sad eye the path o'er the ocean,
Far, far away where my Ooleen hath flown.
Oh, may the angels, awakin' or sleeping
Watch o'er my bird in the land far away,
And it's my prayers will consign to their keepiii',
Care o' my jewel by night and by day.
When by the fireside I watch the bright embers,
Then all my thoughts fly to England and thee,
Wondering if my Coleen ever remembers,
Of if ever h$r thoughts are- returning to me.
DENNIS McGONAGLE'S DAUGHTER MARY ANN.
I am a dacent Irishman, I've a daughter Mary Ann,
And I try to dress her rn the finest style;
She has dresses' silk and satin, she can paralyze French and
Latin,
And you bet she is so fresh she'll never spoil.
When she goes out on the street every bummer tfiat she meets.
Oh, she tries to make a mash on him if she can,
And everywhere she goes, you can tell by her turned-up nose,
That she is Dennis Mc-Gonagle's daughter, Mary Ann.
She's a darling, she's a daisy, and she nearly has me crazy,
80
With a hand and foot upon her like a man:
And everywwhere she goes you can tell by her turned-up nose,
That she's Dennis McGonagle's daughter, Mary Ann.
I came home the other night, sure the girl was not in sight,
left word that she was going to a ball,
Down to a bowery dance, there for to sing and prance,
That was given by all the bums in bowery hall.
Oh, the gang it was run in, and, faith, it was no sin,
They arrested every woman and every man :
But they had to let her go just as soon as she could show
That she was Dennis McGonagle's daughter, Mary Ann.
THE LAMENT OF THE IRISH EMIGRANT.
I am sitting on the stile, Mary, where we sat side by side,
On a bright May morning long ago. when first you were my
bride ;
<>rn was springing fresh and green and the lark sang loud
on hi ph.
And the red was on your cheeks, Mary, and the love light in
your eye.
lit a step down yonder lane, ancj. the little church stands
near,
The church where we were wed, Mary, I see the spire from here;
But the church yard lies between, love, and my feet might break
your rest,
.For I've laid you, darling, down to sleep wilh your baby on
your breast.
1 am very lonely now, Mary, for the poor makes no new friends,
But, oh, we love them better far, tJie few our Father sends;
But you were all I had, Mary, my blessing and my pride,
There is little left to care for now since my poor Mary died.
I am bidding you a long farewell, my Mary, kind and true.
But I'll not forget you, darling, in the land I am going to;
They say there's bread and work for all and the sun shines
But I'll not forget old Ireland, were it twenty times as fair.
And oft times in those grand old woods I'll sit and close my
ey< m
And my thoughts will travel back again to the grave where
Mary lies;
And I'll think I see the little stile where we sat side by side,
And the springing corn and bright May morn when first you
were my bride.
81
I WAS BORN IN KILLARNEY.
I was born in Killarney when I was very young,
And that's the very reason why the blarney is on my tongue;
Oh, the night was dark and stormy and the rain came falling
down,
And the midwife, Judy Carney, lived a long ways out of town.
When me father took the donkey out and straddled on his back,
With old Judy on behind him he very soon came back:
That I was the purtiest baby all the neighbors did allow,
The girls would ling and kiss me then, why don't they do it now?
And then I was as fine a boy, me likes you ne'er could find,
My hair was black and glossy and hung down in curls behind .
It was then the girls would pick me up and toss me like a ball,
I wouldn't let" them do it now for fear they'd let me fall.
And when the summer time would come and bathing did beg'n,
Oh, the girls would put on bathing suits and swimming they'd
,go in;
They would swim with me upon their backs and bathe my little
brow,
I was their little darling then, why don't they do it now?
And when I came to cut my teeth I used to cry all day,
'"Twas then the girls would pity me, sure I often heard them say,
' ' Oh, bless his darling little gums, dear me, how they must ache, ' '
I would look up in their face and laugh, because I couldn't
spake.
They would feed me on the bottle, my poor mother died one day,
They would ram it down my throttle and I'd suck and suck
away.
They would rock me in the cradle and if I'd kick up a row,
They would take me in to sleep with them, but they never do
it now.
LONG SHOREMEN'S STRIKE
I am a dacent laboring man that works aloiig the shore,
To keep the hungry wolf away from the poor lonu 1 shoreman's
door;
I work all day in the broiling sun on ships that come from sea,
From broad daylight till late at night for the poor man's family.
Chorus
They give us good pay for every day,
That is all we '11 ask of ve.
Our cause is right, we are out upon a strike
For the poor man's family.
"ich man's gilded carriages with horses swift and strong,
If a poor man asks for a bite to eat they'll tell him he is wrong;
"Go take your shovel in your hand and come out and work
for me, ' '
But die or live they have nothing to give to the poor man's
family.
They bring over their Italians and Xagurs from the South,
Thinking they can do the work, take the bread from out our
mon tli ;
The poor man's children they must starve, but to this we'll not
agree,
To be put down like a worm in the ground and starve our fam-
ilies.
rLCAHEY?'S GONE AAVAY.
The hero of my humble song was once a mighty man,
A shining light in his neighborhood, the chief of all his clan,
But when he found in course of time the tricks his friends
did play.
Sure, he left them all and now they cry, "Mulcahey's gone
away."
Chorus
lie was groat and grand and he took command
Of the boys on St. Patrick's day,
But now the cry is everywhere,
"Mulcahey's gone away."
He was the greatest politician that ever filled a chair,
But he lost his great position and it drove him to despair;
We know not where to look for him, he must have crossed the
jae,"
It grieves us just to think of it, Mulcahey 's .gone away.
The girls went crazy when he winked, and many an artful plan
They put in operation to catch this darling man,
But now they are left alone, poor things, and they weep and
wail and say,
"Oh, what will we do at all, at all, Mulcahey T s gone away."
THE MAID OF THE LOGAN BOUGH.
Come, all you lads and lassies, come Listen to me now,
83
It's all about a nice young man I solemnly do vow.
It's all about a nice young man I solemnly do vow.
Who would toil botli late and early for the maid of the I
Bough.
Says he, "My pretty fair maid, you are the only one,
If I could gain your favor from your side I ne'er would roam."
She says, "Young men they are so changeable, I am unpre-
pared just now,
So I'll tarry another season at the foot of the Logan Bough."
Says he, "My pretty fair maid, oh, how can you say so,
Look down in yonder valley where my crops do gently grow,
Look down in yonder valley at my horses and my plow,
-And they are at their daily labor' for the maid of the Losan
Bough."
"If they are at their daily labor I'm sure it's not for me,
For I've heard of your behavior and I moan to tell to thee,
There is an inn where you call in, I hear the people say,
That you rap and call and pav for all and go home at the break
of day."
"'If I rap and call and pay for all, the money is my own,
For I spend none of your fortune, dear, I hear that you have
none :
You thought I'd be alarmed at the meeting of you now,
But I'll leave you where I found you at the foot of the Logan
Bough."
So fill yoiir glasses to the brim and let the toast go 'round,
"We'll drink success to all the boys that plow and sow the ground,
We'll drink success to all the boys, no matter what they say,
And we'll rap and call and pay for all and go home at break
of dav!
I LOVE MY SAILORI BOY,
Abroad as I rambled one morning in May,
So carelessly I wandered down Liverpool's streets so gay,
I overheard a fair maid and this was all her cry,
' ' And let my friends say what they will, I love my sailor boy. ' '
"For he is constant and true hearted, he's proper, tall and trim,
No country clQwn or squire's son could ever equal him:
He is crossing the wide ocean now where the tempests loud do
roar.
My blessings they attend him, he's the lad I do adore."
84
Then up spoke her mother, those words to her did say,
."You are but a young and foolish girl, take counsel now, I pray,
Forsake your tarry sailor, he'll rove from shore to shore,
Leave his sweetheart broken hearted,'have wives on every shore.
''Then wed a steady farmer's son that whistles at the plow,
And then you will have time enough to mind both sheep and
cows,
But your sailor he'll carouse and drink whenever he comes on
shore,
And when' his money is spent and gone he'll sail the seas for
more. ' '
"A fig: for all your farmer sons, such lovers I disdain,
There is not one among them dare face the raging main,
And when the winds are howling and the billows are white as
snow,
I'll venture my life with the lad that dare go where the stormy
winds do blow."
FAIR FAXXY MOOR.
It is down by yonder cottage all desolate and forlorn,
Where the walks they are surrounded and by green overgrown;
Step in and you will see it in dark stains on the floor,
Alas, it is the blood of the Fair Fanny Moor.
It is of two young lovers, to Fanny they came,
They courted and adored her,- enraptured were they;
The first was young Reynolds of higher degree,
He courted and adored her, enraptured was he,
But his wealth and his riches had 110 power to allure,
The love burning bosom of the fair Fanny Moor.
The next was young Rogers of lower degree,
He courted and adored her, enraptured was he;
He led up to the altar, made firm and secure,
The life and the love of the fair Fanny Moor.
As Fanny was sitting in her cottage one day,
Some business having called her fond husband away,
Young Reynolds, the haughty, steps in on the floor,
And he clasped in his arms the fair Fanny Moor.
"Now, Fanny, dear Fanny, -be resigned to your fate,
Incline to my wishes before you are too late,
For there is one thing or the other I am determined to secure,
That's the life or the love of the fair Fanny Moor."
85
"Oh,, spare me, Oh, spare me!" young Fanny she cried,
1 'Oh, spare me, oh, spare me, I am not prepared to die."
But he paid no heed to her dying- request,
And he buried his knife in the fair Fanny's breast.
Young Reynolds all blood stained was taken and tried,
Young Fanny all blooming in beauty she died ;
Young Reynolds was hung on the tree by the door,
For taking: the life of the fair Fannv Moor.
KATIE O'DONAHUE.
Oh, me name it is McGuire and I'll quickly tell to you,
A pretty girl I admire named Katie O 'Donahue;
She's rosy, fat and hearty, now mind me what I say,
And every night when I go to her house the ould woman will
joyfully say,
"Paddy, git up from the fire and give that man a sate,
Don't you see it's Mr. McGuire, that's courtin' your sister Kate,
You know right well he has a farm a little ways out of town.
So git up out of that, you impudent brat, and let Mr. MeGuire
* sit down."
The first time that I met this girl she was dancing the Tra-la-le,
And though I was a stranger then she grew very fond of me ;
She "axed'.! me if I would see her home and with her take
some "tay, "
And the very moment we -got in the house the ould woman did
joyfully say,
"Paddy, git up from the fire and give that man a sate,
Don't you see it's Mr. McGuire, that's courtm ' your sister Kate,
You know right well he has a farm a little ways out of town,
So git up out of that, you impudent brat, and let Mr. McGuire
sit down.'
THE GIRL I LOVED IN SUNNY TENNESSEE.
On a morning bright and clear,
To my old home I drew near,
- Just a village down in sunny Tennessee ;
I was speeding on a train
That would take me back again,
To my sweetheart who was waiting there for me.
It had h"en but few short years
Since 1 'cl kissed away her tears,
And I left her at my dear old mother's side,
And each day we've been apart,
She's "Town dearer to my heart,
Than the night I asked of her to be my bride.
Kef rain
You could hear the darkies singing.
As slit said farewell to me,
Far across the fields of cotton
My old homestead I could see;
"\Vhen the moon rose in its glory,
Then I told life's sweetest story
To the girl I loved in sunny Tennessee.
When, the train drew up at last.
Old familiar scenes I passed,
And I kissed my mother at the station door,
And when old friends gathered 'round,
Tears on every cheek I found,
And I missed the one that I'd been longing for.
As I whispered, "M : .other, dear,
Wheiv- is Mary?'' She's not here,"
this world seemed lost and sadness came to me,
For she pointed to a spot
In the churchyard's little lot,
re my sweetheart sleeps in sunny Tennessee.
SHANTY MAN'S LIFE;
A shanty man's life is a wearisome one,
Although some say it's free from care,
It's the swinging of an axe from morning till night,
In the forest wild and drear,
Or sleeping in the shanties dreary
When the winter winds do blow,,..
But as soon as the morning star does appear,
To the wild woods we must go.
At four o 'clock in the morning our old greasy cook calls out,
"Hurrah, boys, for it's day,"
And from broken slumber we are aroused,
For to pass away the long winter's day.
Transported as we are from the maiden so fair,
* 87
To the banks of some lonely stream*
"Where the wolf, bear and owl with their terrifying howl,
Disturb our iiiehtly dreams.
i
Transported from the glass and the smiling little lass,
Our life is long and drear ;
No friend in sorrow nigh for to check the rising sigh,
Or to wipe away the briny tear.
Had we ale, wine or beer our spirits for to cheer,
"While we're in those woods so wild,
Or a glass of whiskey shone while we are in the woods alone,
For to pass away our long exile.
"When spring it does come in double hardship then begins,
For the water is piercing cold;
Dripping wet will be our clothes and our limbs they are half
froze.
And our pike poles we scarce can hold.
O 'er rocks, shoals and sands give employment to old hands,
And our well bended raft we do steer,
Oh, the rapids that we run, they seem to us but fun,
"We're the boys of all slavish care.
Shantying I'll give o'er when I'm landed safe on shore,
And I'll lead' a different life,
No longer will I roam, but contented stay at home,
With a pretty little .smiling wife.
THERE'S A GIRL IN THE HEART OF MARYLAND.
In a quaint, old-fashioned garden in a quaint, old-fashioned
town,
'Mid roses pink and white, and red there blooms the rose I
mean to wed:
"Where the old Patomae's flowing, that is where I long to be,
And tomorrow I^am going to the girl who waits for me.
Chorus
There's a girl in the heart of Maryland, with a heart that
belongs to me,
As I told her of my love the oriole above sang from the old
apple tree.
Then Maryland was fairyland, for she promised my bride
she'd be,
There's a girl in the heart of Maryland with a heart that
belongs to me.
88
lie village Church bells ringing, tell the organist to learn
That melody of Mendelssohn they play when they make two
folks 0]
-e tomorrow we'll be married oh, there's one thing I
forgot
Have the parson reacjy waiting at the churc-h to tie the knot.
r ox YOUR OLD <;RAY BOXXET.
On the old farmhouse veranda there sat Silas and Miranda,
Thinking of the days .gone by:
Said arie, don't be weary, yon were always light and
But a tear, dear, dims your eye."
Said she. "They're tears of gladness, Silas, they're not tears
of sadn-
It is fifty years today since we were wed."
Then the old es brightened, and his stern old
heart it lightened,
he turned to her and said:
or us
"Put on your old gray bonnet with the blue ribbon on it,
Id Dobbin to the shay.
And through the fields of clover we'll drive up to Dover,
On our golden wedding day."
It was the same old bonnet with the same blue ribbon on it,
In the old shay by his side,
That he drove her .up to; Dover thro' the same old fields of
clover.
To become his happy bride ; s
The birds were sweetly singing, and the same old bells were
ringing,
As they passed the quaint old church where they were wed,
And that night when starai were gleamin' the old couple lay
a-dreamin'.
Dreaming of the words he said.
WHEX McGhUINESS GETS Aj JOB.
Last winter was a hard one, Mrs. Riley, did you say
Faith, myself it is that knows it for many a long day;
Your old man wasn't the only one that sat behind the wall,
89
There was my old man McGuiness didn't get a job at all.
The contractors they promised him work on the boulevard,
To handle the pick and shovel and throw dirt on the car;
Six weeks ago they promised him that work he'd surely get,
But believe me, my good woman, they're promising him yet.
Chorus
Then cheer up, Mrs. Riley, don't give way to the blues,
You and I will cut a shine with bonnets and new shoes,
And as for me I have done a-sighin<r, no more I'll cry or sob,
But I'll wait till times get better and MeGuiness g> e t s a job.
The Italians, devil take them, why don't they stay at home?
Sure, we have enough of our own sort to eat up all our own;
fhey come like bees in summer arid in winter they go away,
The contractors hire hundreds for sixty cents a day;
They work upon the railroad, they shovel dirt and slush,
But there is one thing in their favor, Italians never lush ;
They always bring their money home, they drink no beer or
wine,
And that's something I would like to say about your old man
and mine.
The spring time is coming and soon we'll all get work,
McGuiness will go back to his trade, sure he's a handsome clerk;
You should see him climb the ladder, as nimble as a fox,
Faith, he's the boy that can juggle the old three-cornered box;
The boss he's always bawling, "Hi there, don't you stop,
Keep your eyes upward, don't let no mortar drop."
My old man is very careful, nothing he e'er lets fall,
And damn the word you'd hear him say to mv old man at all.
FAREWELL TO CALEDONIA.
My name is Willie Rayburn, in Glasgow I was born,
The place of my residence I was forced to leave in scorn;
From home and habitation was forced to .gang awa',
So fare-you-well, you hills and dales of Caledonia.
The crime that I was taken for was robbery and fraud,
] lay the blame on nae one upon this earthly sod:
I lay the blame on "nae one. but comrades I had twa,
So fare-you-well, the hills and dales of Caledonia.
It was early the next morning before the break of day,
Our turnkey came to us, those words to us did say,
"Rise up, you pitiful convicts, I warn you one and a',
This day you leave the hills and dales of Caledonia."
90
Then I arose, put on my clothes, my heart was filled with grief,
My friends they gathered around me, but could grant me no
rel i
They bound me down in irons for fear I'd run awa',
So fare-you-well, you hills and dales of Caledonia.
Here is to my old father, he is one of the best of men,
Avid also to my own true love, Catharina is her name,
No more we \viil roam by Cylde's green banks or by the
brim a v
This day I lenvi- the hills and dales of Caledonia.
Goodbye to my old mother, I am sorry for what I have done,
1 hope it ne'er will be cast to her the race that I have run;
1 hope the Lord will protect her when I am far awa',
l 'are-vou-well. vou hills and dales of Caledonia.
ABIES OX OUR BLOCK.
If you long for information or in need of merriment,
Come over with me socially to Murphy's tenement,
For he owns a row of houses in the Fourth 1 ward near the dock,
Where Ireland is represented by the babies on our block.
Chorus
There's the Whalens and the Phalens from sweet Dondohertye,
A-sitting on the railing* with their babies on their knee,
All gossiping and talking with children by the 'flock,
Singing "Little Sally Waters'' to the babies on our block.
On a warm day in summer when the breeze comes off the sea,
Five hundred little children lie 011 the battery,
They come from Murphy's building and their noise would stop
a clock,
sinking "Little Sally Waters" to the babies on our block.
(.'horus
There's the Nolans and the Dolans. from, the Black Water Side,
All sitting on the battery a-gazing at the tide.
All neighborly and friendly, with relations by the flock,
Singing, ''Little Sally Waters'' to the babies on our block.
"Good morning to you, landlord," you'll hear them all to say,
As Patrick Murphy, Esquire, comes down the alleyway,
With his shining silk and beaver he's as solid as a rock,
The envy of all the neighboring boys a-living in the block.
91
Chorus
There's the Shannons and the Brannans, Fardowns and Con-
naught men,
So aisy with the shovel and handy with the pen,
All royal blood and noble of the Dan O' Conn ell stock,
Singing, "Little Sally Waters" to the babies on our block.
"Little Sally Waters sitting in the sun,
Sighing, crying for a young man;
Rise, Sally, rise wipe your eyes out with your frock,"
Is sung by all the babies a-living in our bloek.
O'BRIEN WITH HJS HIGH-WATER PANTS.
My name is O'Brien from Harlem,
I am an Irishman as you may see ;
I can sing like a thrush or a starling,
Of the little bird up in a tree.
But the gang standing there on the corner,
They are trying the steps and the dance,
And they cry out whenever I'm passing,
"There is O'Brien with his hi^h- water pants."
Chorus
They tell me go over to England,
And pay a short visit to France,
And there to bring out me new fashion,
And call them the high-water pants.
Last night sure I went to the theater,
Along with my first cousin Dan ;
We hired a sate in the parka,
Behind the big man" in the band;
When a nager came out with a banjo,
He played up a Highland clog dance,
And he gave out a gag and conundrum
About O'Brien and his high- water pants.
Last week I walked down on the bowery,
Along with me friend, Paddy Brock,
We just dropped into Geoghan's,
To git a drink of his rye and rock,
When the gang all cried, "There's Dan O'Leary,"
The bartender shot me a glance,
"Howld your tongue then," says he to the loafers,
That's O'Brien with his high-w r ater pants."
92
McCARTY'S WIDOW.
It's just* a year ago today I took to me a wife,
And .ever since she's proved to be the burden of my life;
She is the widow of McCarty, McCarty was her name,
And for changing it to Riley, sure's myself I am to blame.
She spakes about McCarty and his virtues every day,
And wishes I'd keep sober and be like him .every way;
She'd bate him with the broomstick every time the baby cried,
And made him rock the cradle until from cruelty he died.
Chorus
She'd lick him, she VI kick him, she'd never let him be,
She'd lash him, she'd smash him, until he couldn't see;
But McCarty wasn't hearty, now she's got a different party,
She might have licked McCarty, but she can't lick me.
I am going down to Grady's now on purpose to get tight,
And when I do come home again there's going to be a fight;
I'll break up all the furniture before I do get through,
t the stove when I go in, it's the first thing that I'll do;
And then there is a difference 'twixt two men she will see,
I'll show her then who is the best, McCarty then or me,
And perhaps she will behave herself and learn, to shut her mouth,
For if she puts me into jail she'll have to get me out.
Chorus
For I'll lick her, I'll kick her, I'll never let her be,
I'll lash her, I'll smash her, until she cannot see;
But McCarty wasn't hearty, now she has got a different party,
She might have licked McCarty, but she can't lick me.
WHEN YOU AND I WERE YOUNG, MAGGIE.
I wandered, today to the hills, Maggie,
' To watch the scenes below,
The i-reek and the creaking old mill, Maggie,
As we used to so long ago.
The green grass has y-one from the hills, Maggie,
Where first the daisies sprung:
old mill is still, Mn_-
Since you and I were young.
Chorus
But now we are aged and gray, Maggie,
The trials of life are nearly done ;
93
Let us sing 1 of the days that are gone. Maggie,
When you and I were young.
A city so silent and lone, Mlnggio,
Where the young and the gay and the best
In polished white mansions of stone, Maj_
Have each found a place of rest:
It was built where the birds used to play, M<<
And joined in a song that we had sun
But we sang as gay as they, Maggie,
When you and I were young.
They' say I am feeble and old, Maggie,
My step is less sprightly than then,
My face is a well written page, Maggie,
But time alone was the pen.
But now we are feeble and gray, Ma-.
Like spray from the wild breakers flung,
But to me you're as fair as the day. Maggie,
When YOU and I were young.
SWEET SILVER LIGHT OF THE. MOON.
As I strayed from my cot at the close of the clay,
To muse on the beauties of June,
Beneath the jessamine sljade I espied a fair maid,
And she sadly complained to the moon.
Refrain
Roll on, silver moon, guide the traveler on his way,
While the nightingale's song is in tune,
But it's never, never more with my true love I'll stray,
By the sweet silver light of the moon.
Like the hart on the mountain my lover he was brave,
He was handsome and manly to view;
He was kind and sincere and he loved me most dear,
Oh, Edward, no love was more true.
But now he is dead and the youth once so gay,
Is cut down like a rose in full bloom, .
And he silently sleeps while I am thus left to weep,,
Bj the sweet silver light of the moon. .
But his grave I'll seek out and till morning appears
I will weep for my lover so brave :
I'll embrace the cold earth and bedew with my tears
The flowers that bloom o'er his grave.
94
VANDIEMENS LA
e, all you lads of pleasure and rambling 1 boys beware,
"Whenever you go hunting 1 with your hounds, your gun and
re,
Whenever you go a-hunting with the vallies at your command,
Think of the tedious journey, boys, going to Vandieniens Land.
There was Joe Brown from Nottingham, Jack Williams and
Jack Jo
were three as jolly fellows, so well their country knows;
were taken one night near the bay, all with their gun in
hand,
for fourteen years transported unto Vandiemens Land.
:-irl from Nottingham, Sally Simons was her name,
For seven years transported for carrying on the game;
Our Captain bought her freedom and he married her off hand,
She gave us good usage going to Vandiemens Land.
The landing port we went to was on a foreign shore,
The planters they surrounded us, full a score or more,
They yoked" us up like horses and sold us out off hand,
And they hitched us to the plow, me boys, to plow Vandieniens
Land.
The houses fi. built for us was made of sods and clay,
The had to sleep on were made of rotten hay;
-Is, me boys, and slumber if you can,
Oli, < 3 the very worst usage while on Vandiemens
Land.
Last night as I lay down to sleep I had a pleasant dream,
T dreamt I was back in Ireland, down by a purling stream,
With my Irish girl beside me and her at my command,
But when I awoke my heart was broke, off on Vandiemens Land.
ON BOARD THE VICTORY.
I am a noble lady, my fortune it is great,
cely aide my anguish to relate,
For the loving of a young man who proved so dear to me,
He is plowing the stormy ocean now on board the Victory.
I kept my true love's company for better than three years,
He swore and vowed he'd marry me, I know he was sincere,
But now, alas, froifn he he has gone, the Lord only knows how far,
He has been impressed in to serve the queen on board a man-
of war.
95
My father sent the press gang, they did niy love surround,
And seven of those cowardly dogs he lay bleeding on the ground.
But he was overpowered, he fought right manfully,
But was forced to yield and quit the field, go on board the
'Victory.
The reason why they slight my love is because that he is poor,
And oft times they have scorned him while passing by their
door
But had he come of noble birth and I -of low degree,
They ne'er would send the lad I love on board the Victory.
Last night as I lay sleeping, a-taking of my rest,
The thoughts of my true lover disturbed my wounded breast;
I thought that I was enjoying my true love's company,
That I was with him all alone on board the Victory.
Now since I cannot gain him, the lad that I adore,
It will be my occupation, now and forevermore,
It is for his safe protection my daily prayers shall be,
All- joy attend my own true love on board the Victory.
ELLA REE.
There is Ella Ree, so dear to me,
She's gone forevermore,
Her home was down in Tennessee
Before the cruel war.
Chorus -
Then carry me back to Tennessee,
There let me live and die,
Among the fields of yellow corn,
In the land whepe Ella lies.
Oh, why did I from day to day,
Keep sighing to be free,
And from my master run away,
And leave poor Ella Ree ?
The summer moon will rise and fall.
The tune birds sing their lay,
And the 'possum and the coon will softly tread
O'er the grave of Ella Ree. *
But now the cruel war is o'er,
And the colored folks are free. %
And the good old times will come again,
AVay down in Tennessee.
96
WHEN I DREAM OF OLD ERIN.
When the nightingale's singing its sweet melodies,
And the scent of the flowers perfumes the night breeze,
Then I dream of my old home far over the sea,
By the Lake of Killarney. where I long to be.
And I see you, it seems, waiting there on the shore,
Where together we stray 'd in the sweet days of yore;
I am thinking tonight of my Colleen so tr
When I dream of Old Erin, I'm dreaming of you.
When I dream of Old Erin I'm dreaming of you,
With your sweet, roguish smile and your true eyes of blue ;
For my love, like the shamrock, each day stronger grew,
When I dream of old Erin, I'm dreaming of you.
I can see the old cottage, just o'er the hill there,
- 'Tis those fond recollections bring happiness rare,
Sure, the lassie I love with a heart that is true,
She is waiting for someone, while someone waits, too :
And my love's growing stronger each day, more and more,
'Tis the same old love story that's told o'er and o'er;
So, Acushla my Colleen, it seems that you knew,
When I dream of Old Erin. I'm dreaming of you.
WEARING OF THE GREEN.
Oh, Paddy, dear, and did you hear the news that's going 'round?
The shamrock is forbid by law to grow on Irish ground;
Saint Patrick's day no more we'll keep, his color can't be seen,
For there's a bloody law agin' the Wearin' o' the Green.
I met with Napper Tandy and he tuk me by the hand,
And he said, "How's poor ould Ireland, and how does she
stand ? ' '
N She's the most distressful country that ever you have seen,
're hanging men and women there for wearing of the green.
Then since the color we must wear is England's cruel red,
Sure, Ireland's sons will ne'er forget the blood that they have
shed ;
You may take the shamrock from vour hat. and cast it on the
sod,
But. 'twill take root and flourish still, tho! under foot 'tis trod;
When the law can stop the blades of grass from growing a?
they grow,
And when the leaves in summer time their verdure dare not
show,
Then I will change the color I wear in my caubeen,
But till that day, please God, I'll stick to wearing of the green.
But if at last our color should be torn from Ireland's heart,
Her sons in shame and sorrow from the dear old soil will part,
I've heard whisper of a country that lies far beyant the say,
Where rich and poor stand equal in the light of freedom's day ;
Oh, Erin, must we lave you, driven by a tyrant's hand,
Must we seek a mother's welcome from a strange but happy
land !
Where the cruel cross of England's thralldom never shall be
seen,
where, in peace, we '11 'live and die, a-wearing of the green.
JOE BOWERS.
My name it is Joe Bowers and I've got a brother Ike,
I came from old Missouri, yes, all the way from Pike,
And why I left that pretty place I'll tell you in my song,
And if you'll pay attention I'll not detain you long.
When I was there I courted a pretty fair maid, her name was
Sally Black,
1 asked her if she'd marry me, she said it was a whack;
Said s4ie to me, "Joe Bowers, before we hitch for life,
You want to get a little home for to keep your little wife."
''I'll do it, dearest Sally, I'll do it for your sake,
I'll go to California and I'll try to raise a stake."
Said she to me, "Joe Bowers, you are just the man to win,
Here 's a kiss to bind the bargain, ' ' and she hove- a dozen in.
When I got to California I hadn't nary a red,
1 had such wolfish feelings, I wished myself most dead;
But the thoughts of my dear Sally soon made them feelings get,
And whispered hopes to Bowers, I wish I had them yet.
Then I commenced a-mining, put in my biggest licks,
Came down upon the boulders just like ten thousand bricks;
I worked both late and early through rain and ice and snow,
I was working for my Sally, but it was all the same to Joe.
One day I got a letter from my dear brother Ike,
It came from old Missouri and all the way from Pike;
In that letter came the darndest news that ever you did hear,
My heart is almost busting, so pra}~ excuse the tears.
98
It said that Sal was false to nie, her love for me had fled,
She had got married to a butcher and the butcher had a red
head;
And more than that, the letter said 'twas enough to make me
swear,
That Sally had a baby and the baby had red hair.
Now, I've told you all I can about this sad affair,
About Sally having- a baby and the baby having red hair,
But whether it was a boy or gal child the letter never said,
Only that Sally had a baby and the baby's head was red.
THE TOWN PASSAGE.
The Town Passage is large and spacious and situated upon
the say.
It is nate and dacent and quiet, adjacent to the cove of Cork
on a summer day;
There you can slip in to take a dip ing forninst the shipping
that at anchor ride,
Or in a Tvherry cross o'er the ferry to Caregoloe on the other
side.
Mud cabins swarm in this place so charming with sailors' gar-
ments hung out to dry.
And each abode is snug and -commodious with pigs melodious
in their straw-built sty ;
Oh, the pig's are sleek and well contented, their odor fragrant
it scents the air.
Oh, the beef and biskie, the pork and whisky, it would make
you frisky if you were there.
It's there the turf is and lots of Murphies;, Dead Spratts and
Herring and Oyster Shells,
Nor any lack of good tobacco, but what is smuggled by far
excels ;
It's there you'd see Peg Murphy's daughter peeling praties
forninst the dure, -
With me -aunt Delaney and Bridget Haney, all blood relations
to Lord Donoughmore.
There is ships from Cadiz and from the Barbadoes, but the
lading trade is in whiskey punch,
Or you can go in to where one Mfclly Bowen kapes a nate hotel
for a quiet lunch :
But land or deck on you can "safely reckon, whatever country
that you came from,
99
On an invitation to a jollification by a parish priest called
Father Tom.
Of ships there is one fixed for lodging convicts, a floating stone"
jug of amazing bulk.
And the hake and salmon playing at back Gamon swim for di-
version all around her hulk;
There English peelers keep brave repalers who soon with sail-
ors must anchor weigh,
From the Emerald Island ne'er to see dry land until they spy
land in Botany Bay.
BARNEY BRALLIGAN.
You have heard of Barney Bralligan, the purty Colleens' joy,
And if you want to know him, bedad, Jiere stands the boy.
There is not a .girl in Dublin Town, but by me well is known,
And don't they seem to like me, though,, for I've kissed the
blarney stone.
Chorus
Who's for Donnybrook, I cry, swate spot to view the fair,
Oh, jump upon my jaunting car and I'll quickly drive you there.
And there is the lady of my heart, you'd drive both near and far
To find as graceful a colleen to deck a jaunting car;
It's married we -will shortly be, now, boys, won't that be grand?
So here's success to Nora dear, and the boys of Ireland.
OLD MTD CABIN ON THE HILL.
Go sell the pig and cow, Aggrah,*to take you fair away,
Your poor old parents you must leave behind;
Go' seek your fortune, darling, in the land beyond the sea,
For in Faddy 's land but poverty you'll find.
Those were the words my mother said when I left poor Paddy's
land,
And the sad farewell is in my memory still,
And old Ireland engr averted on my heart, the spot where I
was born.
In the little old mud cabin on the hill.
I think I see the turf fire, it attracts my father's igaze,
And my poor old mother's knitting by his side,
100
The pipe is lit, the smoke ascends, he is thinking of the day
That took his darling boy across the tide.
No more I'll join the merry throng upon the earthen floor,
To the music of the bagpipes loud and shrill,
No more I'll see those good old days in dear old Paddy's land,
Or the little old mud cabin on the hill.
God help the emigrant that leaves poor Paddy's land,
His friends to mourn his absence while he's gone;
He sails to dear America with heart both sick and sore,
For those he loves he braves the world alone.
But if God does spare my life to passage back again,
To bring my parents out, if living still,
But if not, please God, I'll meet them all in a better home,
Than the little old mud cabin on the hill.
THE BOUNTY JIBUPER.
Soldiers, pay attention and I'll sing to you a song,
It is about a bounty jumper and I won't detain you long;
He was a bold, undaunted youth, James Downey was his name,
He was taken at Alexandria for the doing of the same.
He jumped it in Malone and he jumped it in New York,
He jumped it in old Ogdensburg, a.t least that was the talk;
He jumped it everywhere, my boys, along the Yankee shore.
He was taken on his last retreat from the city of Baltimore.
Downey he was taken and the jndge to him did say,
"Where is that money, Downey, or where have you it put
aw,
"That money I have taken, it is out of your command,
And before'l will surrender it you can shoot me and be
damned."
Poor Downey knelt on his coffin, boys, and unto us did say,
"Now, soldiers, do your duty and your officers obey;
Now, soldiers, do your duty, and it is all point at my heart,
For it is out from of this wide world, boys, we all have got
to part."
We dug poor Downey's grave, my boys, we duglt wide and deep,
We dug it in the valley where Downey had to sleep;
We dug it in the valley and w r e carried him along,
And every soldier dropped a tear for the bounty jumper is gone.
101
.NOTHING TOO GOOD FOR THE IRISH.
I will tell a story that was told to me,
A good old story, Agra Machree,
When my mother was a-dying, alas, says she,
Nothing's too good for the Irish."
When we came here, me and brother Dan,
I says to him, "We'll do the best we can,"
So they made him a "copper" and me an Alderman,
Nothing is too good for the Irish.
When my brother Michael came here that fall,
He was a "dandy" between you and all,
Soon he got to be the leader at Tammany Hall,
Nothing's too good for the Irish.
But Mike wouldn't work, oh, no, he wouldn't work,
Says he to me as he gave me a nudge,
"Just wait till election and you'll see,me a judge,"
. Nothing -is too good for the Irish.
Soon I got to be the father of a twelve-pound lad,
He has whiskers already and that's not bad,
He is going to be President some day, by dad,
Nothing 's too good for the Irish.
He sailed away with his blackthorn stick,
To marry the queen and make the British sick,
And try to free old Ireland like a good old Mick,
Nothing's too good for the Irish.
Dutchmen were made for to carry coal in shovels,
Italians "for organs and Englishmen to mash ;
Chinese for washing, the Japs for a juggling show,
"Nagurs" for whitewashing, the Jews were made for cash.
Cubans for cigarettes, the Portuguese to sail the seas,
Scotchmen for bakers and Frenchmen for style,
Russians for mining, Americans for liberty.
But the men 'twas made for office was sons of Erin's
Isle,
THEN HIP, HIP HURRAH ! ERIN GO BRAGH,
NOTHING'S TOO GOOD FOR THE IRISH.
MULDOON, THE SOLID MAN.
I am a man of great influence and educated to a high degree,
I came w r hen small from Donegal, in the Daniel Webster I
crossed the sea;
102
In the Fourteenth ward I situated in a tenament house with
me brother Dan,
By perseverance I elevated and went to the front like a solid
man.
Chorus
So come with me and 111 use you dacent,
I '11 get you drunk and I ? 11 fill your can ;
As I walk the street each friend I meet
Says, * * There goes Muldoon, he 's a solid man. ' '
To every party and every raffle I always go, an invited guest,
And as conspicuous as General Grant, boys, I wear a rosebud
upon niy breast:
I 'm called upon to address the meeting, without regard to clique
or clan,
I show the Constitution with elocution because, you know, I'm
a solid man.
IX THE EVENING BY THE MOONLIGHT.
In the evening by the moonlight when the darkies' work was
over,
We would gather 'round the fire till the hoe cake it was
done ;
After that we'd eat our supper and then we'd clear the kitchen,
'Twas the only time we used to get to have a little fun.
Uncle Gabe would take the fiddle down that hung upon the wall,
While the silvery stars were shining clear and bright;
How the old folks would enjoy it, they would sit all night and
listen
As we sang in the evening by the moonlight.
Chorus
In the evening by the moonlight you could hear those darkies
sinking,
In the evening by the moonlight you could hear those banjos
ringing,
How the old folks would enjoy it, they would sit all night and
listen.
As we sang in the evening by the moonlight.
In the evening by the moonlight when the watch dog would be
sleeping, .
3ri the corner by the fireplace close by the old arm chair;
103
"When Aunt Cliloe used to sit and tell the pickaninnies stories,
And the cabin would be filled with merry coons from near
and far.
Those happy days they all are gone, they'll never come again,
. Everything was. joyous, gay and bright;
But I never will forget it just as long as I remember,
How we sang in the evening by the moonlight/
SAVEET MARY JANE.
My true love's name was Mary Jane,
She fairly did my heart inflame,
I'm sure there was not so fair a dame,
And search this wide world over.
Mary Jane and I we did agree
That married- we would surely be,
As soon as I returned from sea,
We would seal that solemn bargain.
But when I did return again,
They had my sweet companion slain,
The pride and glory of the plane
Lay in her grave all mouldering.
I wish I'd never come on shore,
But stayed where foaming billows roar,
And s'ailed the seas all o'er and o'er,
Since parted from my jewel.
THE BANKS OF BOYNE.
I am a bonnie lassie and I love my laddie well,
My heart was always true to him for more than time can tell;
It was in my father 's castle where he gained this heart of mine,
But he has left me here to wander on the lovely banks of Boyne.
His coal black hair in ringlets hung, his cheeks were like the rose,
His teeth were like the ivory white, his eyes were black as Sloes,
His countenance it was sincere, his speech was bold but kind,
But he has left me here to wander on the lovely banks of Boyne.
1 understand my false young man to England sailed away,
I picked up all my jewels, all on that very day,
I left my aged parents, they now in sorrow pine,
104
I forsook my father's castle on the lovely banks of Boyne.
No more down by those purling streams that swiftly glide away,
Where me and my true lover for pleasure used to stray;
Come, all you pretty fair maids, mind how you spend your time,
Just think of the fate of Flora from the lovelv banks of Boyne.
NORA McSHANE.
I left Balamonoth a long way behind me,
To better my fortune I crossed the deep sea,
But I'm sadly alone, not a creature to mind me,
And, faith, I'm as wretched as wretched can be;
In truth, I think 'm near broken hearted,
To country and home I must return back again,
For I've never been happy at all since I parted
From sweet Balamonoth and Nora McShane.
I sigh for the turf fire so cheerfully burning,
Where barefooted I trudged it from toiling afar,
And tossed in the light the thirteen I'd been earning,
And whistled the anthems of Erin go Bragh;
But now far away from my fireside I'm parted,
Away back in dear America over the main,
And may God speed the ship that is sailing tomorrow,
Back to dear old Erin and Nora McShane.
There is something so dear in the cot I was born in,
Though the walls are but mud and the roof is but thatch,
How familiar the grunt of the pigs in the morning,
What pleasure in lifting that ould rusty latch;
It's true I'd no money, but then I'd no sorrow,
My pockets were light and my head had no pain,
But if I'm living \vhen the sun shines tomorrow,
I'll go back to ould Erin and Nora McShane.
BANKS OF THE NILE.
Hark ! hark ! the drums are beating, my love, I must away,
I hear the bugle calling, I can no longer stay;
We are ordered out from Portsmouth for many a long mile,
To fight the Moors and Niggers on the banks of the Nile.
Oh, Willie dear, don 't leave me here behind to weep and mourn,
So I may curse and rue the day that ever I was born,-
105
For the parting from my sweetheart is like parting from my life,
So stay at home, dear Willie, and I will be your wife.
The Queen she calls for men, love, and I, for one, must go,
The Queen she cails for men, love, I dare not answer No;
"We must away to face the foe while cannons roar the while,
To fight with Briton's heroes on the banks of the Nile.
Then I'll cut off my yellow hair and go along with you,
I will put oil men's clothing and go see Egypt, too;
I will cherish and protect you through hardship and through
toil,
And we'll comfort one another on the Banks of the Nile.
Your waist it is too slender, love, your fingers are too small,
I am afraid you would not answer when on you I would call,
Your delicate constitution would last but a short while,
Among those sandy deserts on the Banks of the Nile.
Oh, cursed be the cruel war and the hour it first begun,
For it has robbed old Ireland of many a noble son;
It robs us of our sweethearts, jirotec'tors of the soil,
And their bodies feed the wild fowlsjm the Banks of the Nile.
But soon the war will be over and we'll all be coming home,
Unto our wives and sweethearts we left behind to mourn;
We will kiss them and embrace them with their little winning
smile,
And we never will return again to the Banks of the Nile.
JOHANNA SHAY.
In the Emerald Isle so far from here across' the dark blue sea,
There lives a maid that I love dear and I know that she loves me,
With roguish eyes of Irish blue her cheeks like dawn of day,
Oh, the sunshine of' my life she is, my own Johanna Shay.
Oh, Johanna is tall and lovely and like a lily fair,
She is the prettiest girl that can be found in the County of^
Kildare,
And if I have good luck, me boys, I'll make her Mrs. O'Day,
For my bundle I'll pack and I'll sail right back to my own
Johanna Shay.
There's a bird in yonder garden singing from a willow tree,
That makes me think of Johanna when she used to sing to me;
When side by side o'er the mountains or by the lake we strolled,
106
And her cheeks would flush with an honest blush whenever a
kiss I stole;
Though the ocean rolls between us, if harm was in her way,
I would jump right in and boldly swim, to my own Johanna
Shay-
I WILL TAKE YOU BACK AGAIN, KATHLEEN.
I will take you home again, Kathleen,
Across the ocean wild and wide,
To where your heart has ever been,
e first you were my bonnie bride;
The roses all have left j'our cheek,
I have watched them fade away and die;
Your voice is sad whene'er you speak,
And tears bedim your loving eye.
Pi cf rain
Oh, I will take you back again, Kathleen,
To where your heart will know no pain,
And when the fields are fresh and green,
I will take you to your home again.
I know you love me, Kathleen dear,
Your heart was ever fond and true,
I always feel when you are near
That earth holds nothing, dear, but you;
Where are the smiles you once gave me?
I seldom ever see them now,
And many, many times a day,
A dark'ning shadow clouds your brow.
To that dear land beyond the sea,
My Kathleen will again return,
And when thy old friends welcome thee,
Your loving heart will cease to< mourn;
"Where gently flows that purling stream,
Down by your mother's humble cot,
Where those brightest rays of sunbeams gleam,
Then all your trials will be forgot.
IN SAVANNAH:
'Neath the Southern skies there stands a humble cottage,
'Neath its roof sits a mother old and gray,
107
In the trees around the song birds are singing',
Their melody helps to while her hours away.
Though I've wandered far and wide, yet never
Have I forgotten her where'er I've roamed,
Don't weep, dear mother, for your boy is coming
Back to his home, sweet home.
Chorus
In Savannah, sweet Savannah,
There's where the mocking bird
Is singing night and day,
In Savannah, sweet Savannah,
Home of my boyhood days.
Soon I'll be back in old Savannah,
Soon I'll be w r here swee't magnolias bloom,
Then my arms will soon entwine my .gray -haired sweetheart,
Soon I'll banish her sorrow and gloom:
I love her for she bears the name of Mother,
And in w .my dreams I see her falling tears,
The song birds seem to know that she is grieving,
And sing for her in her declining years.
LONESOME HOURS OF WINTER.
Oh, the lonesome hours of winter provide both frost and snow,
Dark clouds around us gather, the stormy winds do blow;
You are the girl I have chosen to be my only dear,
But your scornful heart is frozen and fast locked up I fear.
I went one night to see my love, she proved most scornfully,
I asked her if she'd marry me to which she paid no heed;
The night being nearly passed and gone and near the break of
day,
I am waiting for -nfp answer, my love, wliat do you say?
Since you must have an answer, I choose a single life,
I_never thought it fitting to ever become your wife;
You may take that for an answer, for myself I will provide,
I have chosen another sweetheart and you I cast aside.
Since you are for a-changiiig the old one for the new,
Then. I will go a-roving, I'll rove the country through,
Until I find some pretty fair maid so pleasing to my will,
Oh, this world is wide and lonesome, if one don't, why another
will.
108
I know you have great riches and more you'd like to gain,
You won my young affections which now you do disdain;
Your riches will not last you long, they'll melt away like snow,
And when poverty will press you, dear, you'll think of me,
I know.
Some folks do seek for pleasure, but -I no pleasure find,
The- little birds sing sweetly all around on every vine,
The little birds sing sweetly, so pleasing and divine,
And so would my joys be flowii : it if Nancy was only
mine.
MOLLY BAWN.
Oh, Molly Bawn is my love's name, the same I'll ne'er deny,
She has two red and rosy cheeks, two dark and rolling eyes;
She is the primrose of this country, she is Venus, I declare,
And the brightest'* star that is in the land is Molly Bawn so fair.
For where my love goes she trips the rose and makes the valleys
ring.
And all the little small birds in my love s praises sing;
The cuckoo and the turtle dove, the nightingale also,
They seem to say, "Let us haste away to wait on Molly-0."
I wish I was in Ireland sitting on the ,green grass,
And in my hand a bottle .and on my knee a lass ;
We'd drink good liquor merrily and pay before we'd go.
I would roll you in my arms, Molly, let the winds blow high
or low.
LEAVING ERIN. *
Farewell, Erin, I now must leave you for to cross the raging
main,
Where cruel strife may end my life and I'll ne'er see you again;
It will break my heart from you to part, Arrah Cushla Asthore
Machree,
But I must go full of grief and woe to the shores of America.
Chorus
So now, farewell, I can no longer dwell in Ireland, Acushla
Machree,
For I must go full of grief and woe to the shores of America.
109
On Irish soil my parents dwelt since the time of Brien Boru,
They paid their rent and lived content, convenient to Kjllaloo
But the landlord cruel sent us ashule, my poor old mother and
me,
He banished us from home far away to roam to the wilds of
America.
No more at the churchyard, Asthore Machree, on my father's
grave can I kneel,
The rich man knows but little of the woes that the poor man
has to. feel ;
When I look around on the little spot of ground where the
cabin used to be,
I may curse the laws that have gave me cause to depart for
America.
Where are the neighbors kind and true that were once our
country's pride?
No more they are seen at the fair on the green or dance on
the green hillside; ,
It is the stranger's cow that is grazing now where the poor man
used to be,
With notices they were served and turned out to starve or ban-
ished to America.
Oh, Erin Machree, must your children be exiled all over the
earth ?
Must they think no more of you, dear land, as the spot that
gave them birth? ^
Must the Irish yield to the beast of the field, Arrah no, Cushla
Asthore Machree,
They're, coming back in ships with vengeance on their lips from
the shores of America.
THE BOY OF LOVE.
The boy of love without no fear like me some time ago,
Like a hero bold through frost and cold to see my love I'd go,
But the moon shone bright to give me light over the meadows
so gay,
Until I arrived at my true love's gate where all my fancy lay.
When I arrive at my true love's gate, my step being soft
and low,
She will arise and let me in, so softly I will go,
Saying, "Will you come to my father's house?" "No, dear,
but come to your own,
110
Come with mo. love, to the Parson's and there we'll be made
one."
<; 0h, no, kind sir," said she, "Prudence would not agree."
"Well, then, sit down along by my side, for I must talk with
thee.
For seven long years I have courted you against your parents'
will,
I was always resolved you would be my bride, but now, pretty
girl, farewell.
"My ship lies in the harbor all ready to set sail,
And if the wind is from the East well have a favoring gale;
Let the wind blow East or from the West, only to Columbia's
shore,
And when I reach Columbia's shore it is often I will say,
'May the Lord above protect my love where all my fancy lay.' '
I COULDN'T STAY AWAY.
Away dowji in old Virginia where I was bred and born,
In that rosy, sunny country where we used to hoe the corn,
In childhood's happy moments my heart was light and gay,
Now I have come to see my birthplace, for I couldn't stay away.
Chorus
For I couldn't and I wouldn't, no, I couldn't stay away from
there,
I couldn't and I wouldn't, no, I couldn't stay away.
I once did love a fair one 'way down in Dixie's land,
And one day popped the question to offer heart and hand;
She says, "My heart has been won and from me you must
sta;
But she was only fooling, and I couldn't stay away.
I have been both East and Westward and Southard far away
But from the old plantation I could no longer stay.
And all the happy faces that greets me here tonight
Does make me doubly happy and fills me with delight.
DOWN IN YONDER VALLEY.
Down in yonder valley there lives my heart's delight,
It's down in yonder valley I'll meet my love tonight,
For meeting is a pleasure between my love and I,
111
It's clown in yonder valley I'll meet. her bye and bye.
I met my love as she was going to church and straightway she
passed me by,
I knew her mind was changing by the rolling of her eye;
I knew her mind was changing to a lad of high degree,
And may he be hanged forever that parted my love and me.
I took a bottle from my pocket and I placed it in her hand,
Saying, "Mollie. drink of this, love, for our courtship is at
an end,"
Saying, "Drink from off the top, love, let the bottom remain
for me,
Five hundred pounds are wagered that married we'll never be."
''So farewell, Tipperary, and farewell to you, Trimore,
And farewell, lovely Mollie, your face I'll see no more;
America lies far away, it's a land I'm going to see,
And may he be hanged forever that parted Mollie and me."
WHERE THE RIVER SHANNON FLOWS.
There's a| pretty spot in Ireland,
I always claim for my land,
Where the fairies and the blarney
Will never, never die.
It's the land of the shilalah,
My heart goes back there daily,
To the girl I left behind me
When we kissed and said good-bye.
Chorus
Where dear old Shannon's flowing,
Where the three-leafed shamrocks grow,
Where my heart is I am going
To my little Irish rose.
And the moment that I meet her,
With a hug and kiss I'll greet her,
For there's not a colleen sweeter,
Where the river Shannon flows.
Sure, no letter I'll be mailing,
For soon will I be sailing,
And I'll bless the ship that takes me
To my dear old Erin's shore;
There I'll settle down forever,
112
I'll leave the old sod ne\
And I'll wh 'heart,
and take mv name Asthore."
I'LL RETURN. MOTHER DARLING, TO YOU.
A mother was saying '-'good-bye'' to her boy,
"Who was ready to start for the war.
She ei -aid, ''You're my pride and joy,
we pa: r evermc
He whispered. "The war will be over some day,
Though I know that your heart will_vearn;
Have cheer, mother dear, soon the spring will be here,
That's the time when I will return."
Chorus
AYhen the roses of springtime are blooming,
I'll return, mother darling, some day;
At the end of the winter of sadness,
Then I'll kiss all your tears away:
Just forget that your boy is a soldier,
To my country and home 1 11 be true ;
When the birds sweetly sing, I'll return in the spring,
I'll return, mother darling, to you.
A mother was praying, alone, for her boy,
As she prayed since that day long ago;
She cried as she thought of the battlefield,
" Something's happened to him, I know."
The door of the cottage was opened at last,
Soon a voice cheered her weary heart:
Her boy cried with joy, "Days of sorrow are past,
Mother dear, we will never part."
SLXCE TERRENCE JOINED THE GANG.
My name is Michael Slattery, and from Ireland I came,
And I've a son that a big blagguard, and Terrence that's his
name;
He wears a great big watch and chain and he calls it a Super
and a slang,
My heart is broke, God knows, it is since Terrence joined the
gang.
113
He comes rolling home in the morning, boys,
Gives the "dure" the divil's own bang,
Me heart is broke, God knows it is,
Since Terrence joined the gang.
When he came home last Sunday evening I talked to him so
very nice,
And he said, "Quid man, you are getting too fresh, and we'll
have to lay you out upon the ice,"
He told the ould woman to go chase herself and to lave off
giving him her slang,
Her heart is broke, God knows it is, since Terrence joined the
gang.
He'll stand upon the corners from morning until night,
And if the police they say, "Move on," he'll spit at them with
spite ;
He went to the market only yesterday and there he stole a
big ham,
And he got six months in the penitentiary, along with the rest
of the gang.
TOSS THE TURK.
One evening lately I dressed up nately,
With Sunday clothes, plug hat and all,
And I started proudly while whistling loudly,
To Neal Brogan's raffle at Hibernia Hall:
While on the corner a gang of loafers,
I know they're loafers for they never work,
Says, "Boys, let us give the old Tad a racket,
We'll have a picnic and we'll toss the Turk."
Chorus
Now, I'm not a fighter, nor yet a biter,
But when duty calls me I never shirk;
Understand me plainly, though I look ungainly,
They had no picnic when they tossed the Turk.
The big ring leader, a free lunch raider,
Says to me, "O'Brien, go paint your tile,
Put crepe around it, take an "axe and pound it,"
And he thought it funny when the gang did smile ;
'Twas then my dander rose like a gander,
For I heard one fellow say he 'd flash a dirk,
So I tapped him lightly and surprised him quietly,
114
And they had no picnic- when they tossed the Turk.
They gathered Ground me and tried to pound me,
But I put me back again' a big brick wall,
I, ''Now mind me, you can't get behind me,
Come up in front and I'll bate you all/'
Then the gainr did faro me and tried to lace me,
But I showed them tricks I learned in Donegal;
Right and left I pounded, they were dumbfounded,
for mercy they did loudly bawl. '
MY CHARMING LASS FROM THE COUNTY MAYO.
The daughters o'f Erin are famed the world over
For wit and for beauty and charms of their own,
But there is one 'mong the Ian:! of the shamrock and clover,
Fair as the fair and is second to none.
She can not boast of wealth, of rank or of station,
That true hearted Colleen that loves me, I know*,
But I could not love her more were she queen of a nation,
Instead of a lass from the County Mayo.
Chorus
As pure as the dew drops that fall on the heather,
Her cheeks like the primrose with sunlight aglow :
Our hearts are linked together with love's silken tether,
is my charming lass from the County Mayo.
The mold of her ankle a Duchess might covet,
Her waist fills with envy the great ladies all,
I her sweet, tempting .mouth and the blue eyes above it,
The heart of a king on his throne might enthrall;
Not a lad in the county but would be a bit bolder,
For they worship the ground that she walks on, I know,
But she wears the gold token of love's ties that binds her,
is mv Irish lass from the Countv Mayo.
THE IRISH JAUNTING CAR.
Oh, my name is Larry Doolin, I'm a -native of the sile,
If you want a day's diversion I can drive you out in style;
Me car is painted red and green and on the door a star,
And the pride of Dublin City is me Irish jaunting car.
115
Chorus
So if you want to hire me, step in to Mickey Mars,
And inquire for Larry Doolin and his Irish jaunting car.
When\he Queen she came to Ireland her health for to revive,
She axed her Lord Leiutenant to take her out to drive;
She said unto his Lordship before they'd traveled Jar,
How delightful is the joulting of an Irish jaunting car."
I'm hired. by drinking men, by teetotalers and by mo friends,
A carman has so much to do that duty never ends,
From mom to night he lias to drive around both near /and far.
And at night he counts his bunces on his Irish jaunting car.
NEVER GO BACK ON THE POQK.
In this world of sorrow, of toil and regret,
There are scenes I would gladly pass o'er,
But stern duty compels that each fact must be told,
So through life we may check them the more;
Is it right that a man who has well earned his pay,
On the pipes by the sweat of his brow,
Should wait like a beggar on green day by day",
Or else home in hunger to go?
Don't show any favor to friend or to foe.
The beggar or prince at your door;
If you always do right you will get your reward,
But never go back on the poor.
From the wild waste of waters there came a death cry,
As dashed on an iron bound shore,
A noble ship struck in the darkness of night,
And sank mi^st the tempest's loud roar;
The captain asleep and the men of their post,
With the coal and provision run short,
While the doomed ones they hoped for that bright Western land,
Which in sweet joyous dreams they had sought.
Can it be such neglect shall by us be forgot,
Or that money will triumph once more?
A good, willing hand, a stout branch and a rope,
For those who go back on the poor !
When the divers went down 'neath the wreck for to search
For the bodies that lay far below,
''It's nothing but a steerage," was oft the remark,
As a ghastly corpse came up to view;
As if only a steerage could shut out a soul,
Because poverty claimed him her own,
116
As if dollars and dimes was f e of all worth,
And the road to all good that is known.
But the white star must change her color aloft,
To blood red afloat and ashore,
Till the steamer Atlantic is forgoitten by time,
With h": of unburied poor. j
BANKS OF THE W ABASH.
Around my Indiana homestead waves the cornfields.
Jn the distance looms the woodlands clear and cool.
Often times my tho -vert to - t ? childhood,
Where I first received my fesson in Nature's school.
But one thing there is missing in the pi -lure.
Without her face 11 so incomplete,
I loner to see my mother in the doorway,
'1 there years ago her boy to greet.
Oh, the moon si; .sight along tne Wabash,
From the feihi >e breath of new mown hay,
Through the sycamores the candle lights are gleaming,
On the banks of the Wabash far away.
Many years hav i since I strolled by the river,
Arm and arm with sweetheart y my side,
It was there I tried to tell her that I loved her,
It was there I a^ked of her to be my bride.
Many years lu:\ -e I strolled through the church yard
-Seeping there, my aiigel Mary dear,
I loved her but she thought I did not mean it,
Yet I'd give the world % if she were only here.
I LEFT IRELAND AND MOTHER BECAUSE WE
WERE POOR.
There is a dear spot in Ireland that I long for to see,
\vn native birthplace, 'tis Heaven to me,
Where my poor widowed mother lives there all alone,
With my brothers and sisters, it was our own happy home.
We had not much money, but my poor mother dear
Placed a kiss on my brow, bade my heart be good cheer,
Though the shadow of poverty darkened our door,
I left Ireland and mother because we were poor.
Chorus
Oh, my thoughts oft' go back to that dear little spot,
117
To my brothers and sisters, and the little thatched cot,
To my poor widowed mother, 111 ne'er see her. more,
'Twas a shame, but I left her because we were poor.
Shall I ever forget on that bright, rosy morn,
When leaving old Ireland my poor heart did mourn,
And my poor widowed mother bade me be of good cheer,
Saying, "Good-bye, Dannie darling/' "Good-bye, mother dear.'''
And my brothers and sisters took me by the hand,
Faith, my heart nearly broke when I left Ireland;
Though the shadow of poverty darkened our door,
T left Ireland and mother because we were poor.
Since leavhr old Ireland 1113^ poor mother died,
"God bless and protect him.'' were the* last words she said,
And the ring iny father gave her she sent it to me,
A jewel more precious than gold unto me.
My brothers and sisters. I wish they were here,
I will send for them soon and they will come, never fear;
I have a neat little cot 011 Columbia's shore,
Where we all can live happy although we are poor.
THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.
Come, all you sons of Britton, and Irish heroes, too,
And all that fought for freedom's cause that day at. Waterloo,
Be of good courage, stout and bold, and I wall promise you
That we'll plant victorious eagles on the planes of Waterloo.
About eight o'clock the earth did shock and this frightful fray
begun, .
It lasted the whole day long till the setting of the sun;
No pen can write, no tongue can tell the horrors of that day,
They fought like men at Waterloo until they were betrayed.
It would fill your heart with pity if you seen those French-
men's wives,
Likewise their little children, with melancholy cries,
Saying, "Mamma, dearest Mamma, oh, this day we sure will rue,
When we come to see our Da Das slain at the battle of Water-
loo."
To see * ' Bony ' ' like 7 a. bantam perched upon his car,
He appeared to be great Caesar or Mars, the god of war;
From a high platform where he stood he flapped his wings
and crew.
Till he dropped his wings through being betrayed at the battle
of Waterloo.
118
vater and through
mud,
many a battle have I fought full ankle-deep in blood,
But Provider,. me in all I e ? er went through.
Till it was my lot to be betrayed at the battle of "Waterloo.
attend you, Grouchy, you did the French betray,
You led the sons of Ireland far different from their way;
You were the cause of ''Bony V fall, alas he is no more,
For you took the gold that banished him to St. Helena's shore.
LITTLE XELL OF XAKRA< iAXsETTE BAY.
I had a dear companion, but she's not with me now,
lillies of the valley are waving o'er her brow,
I am sad and lonely and weeping all the day"
For bright eyed. L -11 of Narragansette Bay.
*
Toll, toll the bell at early dawn of day,
For lovely little Xell so quickly passed away,
Toll, toll the bell so sad and mournfully.
For bright eyt-d. laughing little Xell of Xai te Bay.
I loved this little ' eauty. my boat it was her pride,
And with her do me what joy the foam to ride,
~VTe laughed- and talked so merry to see the waves go by,
Though louder blew the stormy winds and darker grew the s^y.
One day fro:- wandered and got into a boat,
The line was quickly loosened and with the tide did float;
The treacherous bark flew lightly before the mighty wind.
While home and friends and all so dear were many miles behind.
day her lifeless body was found upon the beach,
od and gazed upon it, bereft of sense and speech ;
: I weep today
laughing little Xell of Narragansette Bay.
MARCHING THROUGH GEORGIA.
-od old bugle, boys, weY aiother song,
: it with a spirit that will start the world along,
it as we UN <! 1 . fifty thousand str<>>
While we were marching through Georgia.
119
Choras
Hurrah! Hurrah ! W the jubilee,
Hurrah ! Hurrah ! The flag that makes you free,
So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea,
While we were inarching thro' Geo
How the darkies shouted when they heard the joyful sound,
How the turkeys gobbled which our commissary found,
How the sweet potatoes even started from the ground,
"While we were marching thro' Georgia.
Yes, and there were Union men who wept with soulful tears,
"When they saw the honored flag they had not seen for years,
Hardly could they be restrained from breaking forth in cheers,
"While we were marching thTo' Georgia.
"Sherman's clashing Yani will never reach the coast,"
So the saucy rebels said, and 'twas a handsome boast,
Had they npt forgot, alas, to reckon with the host,
While we were marching thro' Georgia.
So we made a thoroughfare for freedom and her train,
Sixty miles in latitude, three hundred to the main ;
Treason fled before us, for resistance was in vain,
While we were* marching thro' Georgia.
HOME, SWEET HOME.
'Mid pleasures and palaces, though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there 's no place like home ;
A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there,
Which, seek thro' the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere.
Refrain
Home, home, sweet, sweet home,
There's no place like home,
Oh, there's no place like home.
I gaze on the moon as I tread the drear wild.
And feel that my mother now thinks of her child,
As she looks on that moon from our own cottage door,
Thro' the woodbine whose fragrance shall cheer me no more.
An exile from honv\ ' ml or dazzles in vain;
Oh, give me my lowly thatch 'd cottage again 1 ,
The birds singing gaily that come at my call,
Give me them, and that peace of mind dearer than all.
120
<1 iii a village o'er the sea,
And brilliant Y-. . .vwliere;
- and witty sayii
For the inin> -mUi wer
A minstrel >ug about h" mtation ho:.
Down on 1
"When an aired d; -re in silence a..i.
leard hi
%
.-ld folks stay,
It brings m> ^old aw;;
Down on i liver banks there is where I used to roam,
Now I'm old an : r from the old folks
home.
The minstrel .ain and eyes grew dim with tears,
The aged dark- y sat with h
And something in his heart awoke that slumbered there for
years,
It was a memory of his mother long ago.
The plav it closed 'mid great applause, and when the curtain
fell.
The aged darkey tottered on his way.
Thinking of the sweet -voiced singer and the song he sang so well,
Thinkine; of the words that made him rise and say:
OVER THE HILLS TO THE POOR-HOUSE.
For what can it be they have driven
Their father so helpless and old, '
Oh, God, may their crimes be forgiven,
To perish out here in the cold;
Oh, Heavens, I'm sad and I'm weary,
the tears how they course down my cheek,
This world it is lonely and dreary,
My heart for relief vainly seeks.
Kef rain
I'm helpless and feeble,
And the days of my youth have gone by,
Now it's over the hills to the poor-house.
I wander alone there to die.
121
I've sat on that old doorstep yonder,
And held my dear babes on my knee;
No father was happier or fonder
Than I, of niy little ones three;
The boys both so rosy and ruggefr,
And Lilly with prattle so sweet,
God knows how their father has loved them,
But they've driven him out in the street.
It is long 1 years since niy Mary was taken,
My dear old affectionate wife,
Since then I have been forlorn and forsaken;
And the light has died out from my life ;
The boys grew to manhood I gave them
A deed of the farm, aye, and more,
I gave them the house I was born in,
And now I'm turned out from its door.
NELLIE WAS A LADY.
Down on the Mississippi floating,
Long time I travel on the way,
All night the cotton-wood a-toting,
Sing for my true love all the day.
Chorus
Nellie was a lady, last night she died,
Toll the bell for lovely Nell,
My dark Yirginny bride.
Now I'm unhappy and I'm weeping,
Can't tote the cotton-wood no nv
Last night while Nellie was a-sleeping,
Death came a-knocking at the door.
Down in the meadow 'mong the clover,
Walk with my Nellie by my side;-
Now all those happy days are over,
Farewell, my dark Virginny bride.
LOCH-LOMOND.
By yon bonnie banks, and by yon bonnie 'braes.
Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond,
122
Where : my true : j
On the bonuie. bonnie ban: -:id.
, .
road, and I'll take ^)ie low
And 111 be in Scotland af
But me and my true love we'll never meet again
On th<- bonuie ban!: h Lomond.
'Tw, that we parted in yon shady g;
On the ide of Ben Lorn-
Where in purple hue the highland hills we view,
And the moon coming out in the gloaming.
The wee birdi- <! the wild flowers sprii.
And in sunshine the waters are sleeping
But the broken heart it kens nae second spring again,
Tho' the waeful mae cease frae their greeti:
Sl!i: MAY HAVE SEEN BETTER DAYS.
While strolli': 'midst the city's vast throng,
On a night that was bitterly cold,
I noticed a crowd that were laughing aloud,
At something they chanced to behold.
I stopped for to see what the object might be,
And thore on a doorstep there lay
A woman in tears from the crowd's angry jeers,
And then I heard somebod sa :
She may have seen better days,
When she was in her prime,
She may have seen better days
Once upon a time.
Though by the wayside she's fell,
e may yet mend her ways,
Some poor old mother is waiting for her
Who has seen better da;
If we could but tell how this poor creature fell,
Perhaps we'd not be so severe: .
If the truih were but known of this outcast alone,
Perhaps for her we'd all shed a tear.
She was once someone's joy. cast aside like a toy,
Forsaken, abandoned, alone, ^
123
Each man standing by had a tear in his eye,
For some had daughters at home.
JUST TELL THEM THAT YOU SAW ME.
While strolling: down the street one eve, alone on pleasure bent,
It was after business worries "of the day.
1 saw a girl who shrank from me in whom I recognized
My schoolmate in a village far away.
"Is that you, Madge?'' I said to her; she quickly turned away,
"Don't turn away, Madge, I am still your friend;
Next week I'm going back to see the old folks and I thought,
Perhaps some message you would like to send.
Chorus
Just tell them that you saw me, 1 she said, they'll know the rest,
Just tell them I was looking well, you know ;
Just whisper if you get a chance to mother dear and say,
I love her as I did long, long ago.
Your cheeks are pale, your face is thin, come tell me, were
you ill?
When last we met your eyes shone clear and bright;
Come home with me when I go,- Madge, the change will do
you good,
Your mother wonders where you are tonight.
"I long to see them all again, but not just yet," she said;
"It's pride alone that's keeping me away;
Just tell'them not to worry, for I'm all right, don't you know,
Tell mother I am coming home some day."
THE ROVING IRISHMAN.
I am a roving Irishman that roves from town lo town,
I lately took a notion to view some foreign ground,
So with my knapsack on my shoulder and shillala in my hand,
I sailed away to America to view that happy land.
When I landed in Philadelphia the girls all laughed with joy,
Says one unto another, "There conies a roving boy."
One treated to a bottle and another to a dram,
And the toast went 'round so merrily, "Success to the Irish-
124
>t night at the house where I was going to stay,
The landlady ? s daughter grew very fond of me ;
She kissed me and she hugged me and she took me by the hand,
And she whispers to her mother, "How I love this Irishman."
H w. next morning when I was going away,
The landlad Lihter those words to m
"How can you "be so cruel or prove so very unkind,
As to go away a-roving and leave me here behit
Oh, I am bound for Wisconsin, that's right among the Dutch,
And as for conversation it won't be very much,
But by signs and by signals I'll make them understand
That the spirits of good nature lies in this Irishman.
Now it's time to leave off roving and take myself a wife, ,
And for to live happy the remainder of my life ;
Oh, I'll hug her and I'll kiss her, oh, I'll do the- Host I en
For to make her bless the day that she wed with this Irishman.
I TOLD THEM THAT I SAW YOU.
You all have heard the story of the girl that ran away,
And how she met her schoolmate among the city's throng one
day;
Just tell the folks you saw me that was all the maiden said,
One day she got a letter from her schoolmate and it read:
Refrain
I told them that I saw you, they want you to come home,
Their hearts arc breaking for you w-hile far away you roam;
You know they're getting old, Madge, from them you soon
must part,
So come home, Madge, before you break your poor old mother's
heart.
Then came thoughts of her childhood to this fair one, wild
and gay.
She seemed to see her mother in her home so far away-
She thought of her happy childhood and the life she might
have led,
x\nd gazing on the letter those words once more she read:
OLD FOLKS AT HOME.
'Way down upon the Swanee river,
Far, far away,
125
Dere's whar my heart is turning ever,
Dere's who' de old folks stay.
All up and down de whole creation
Sadly I roam,
Still longing for the old plantation,
And for de old folks at home.
Refrain
All de world is sad and dreary,
Everywhere I roam;
Oh 7 darkies, how my heart grows weary,
Far from de old folks at home.
All roun' de little farm I wandered,
When I was young;
Den many happy days I squandered,
Many de songs I sung.
When I was playing with my brother,
Happy was I,
Oh, take me back to my kind old mother,
There let me live and die.
One little hut among de bushes,
One that I love,
Still sadly to my mem'ry rushes,
No matter where I rove ;
When will I see de bees a-humming
All roun' de comb?
When will I hear de banjo tumming
Down in my good old home ?
OLD BLACK JOE.
Gone are the days when my heart was young and gay,
Gone are my friends from the cotton fields away;
Gone from the earth to a better land, I know,
I hear their gentle voices calling, "Old Black Joe."
Chorus
I'm coming, I'm coming, for my head is bending low;
I hear those gentle voices calling, ' ' Old Black Joe. ' '
Why do I weep when my heart should feel no pain?
Why do I sigh that my friends come not again?
Grieving for forms now departed long ago,
I hear their gentle voices calling, "Old Black Joe."
126
Where are the hearts once so happy and so free?
The children so dear that I held upon my knee?
Gone to the shore where my soul has longed to go,
I hear their gentle voices calling, "Old Black Joe."
THE SHREW WIFE.
Kind folks, if you'll listen a story 111 tell,
It is of a misfortune that has me befell,
I married a jade and her name it is Nell,
And she's all the time scolding and brawling.
Twenty pounds of a pension I draw every year,
Which caused her to drink both whiskey, and beer,
Her voice like a cannon would sound in my ear,
Before the daylight in the morning.
To kindle the fire, that is me first job,
And if I don't do it, it's a slap in the gob,
A kick or a cuff or a rap on the nob,
I'm sure for to get from me darling.
Before I go to the barn I must lave the tay kettle to bile,
And when I come in I must nurse a young child,
I wish I'd been kilt on the banks of the Nile
Before I ever met me darling.
Without a sign of a shoe or a sock to me feet,
Me bed it is left without blanket or sheet,
I'm a show to the world when I go on the street,
While she to the neighbors is galivanting.
It is now my wife's beauty I mean to disclose,
She's dirty, she's ragged, with a dam crooked nose,
She's a disgrace to all women wherever she goes,
With her tatters and rags a-hanging.
She has hair on her lip like a wandering Jew,
Damn the tooth in her head that is sound, only two,
Not a stitch on her back, either red, white or blue,
That ever was wet with a washing.
I have traveled through France, through >En gland _and Spain
All through the East Indies and back home again,
At Waterloo battles I suffered great pain,
But I never met with the likes of me darling.
127
DUBLIN BAY.
There sailed away in a gallant bark Roy Neal and his fair
young bride,
They had ventured all in that bounding ark that sailed o'er
the silvery tide-;
But their hearts were young and their spirits light and they
dashed the tears away,
And they watched the shore recede from sight of their own
sweet Dublin Bay.
Three days they sailed when a storm arose and lightning flashed
the deep,
And the thunder's crash broke the short repose of the weary r.ea
boys asleep ;
Roy Neal he clasped his weeping bride and kissed her tears
away,
"Oh, love, 'twas a fatal hour," she cried, "when we left Dublin
Bay. ' '
On the crowded deck of that doomed ship some stood in mute
despair,
And some more, calm with a holy lip sought the God of the
storm in prayer;
"She has struck on a rock," the sailors cried in a breath of their
wild dismay,
And the ship went down and the fair young bride that sailed
from Dublin Bay.
BILLIE JOHNSON OF LUNDY'S LANE.
An old and crippled veteran to the War Department came,
He sought the chief who led him o'er many a field of fame,
The chief who shouted "FORWARD" whene'er his banner rose,
And bore the flag in triumph behind his flying foes.
"Have you forgotten, General," the battered soldier cried,
"The days of Eighteen Hundred and Twelve when I fought by
your side?
Have -you forgotten Johnson that fought at Lundy 's Lane ?
It's true I'm old and feeble, but I'd like to fight again."
"Have I forgotten?" says the chief, "my brave old soldier, NO!
And here's the hand I gave you then and let it tell you so;
But you have done your share, my friend, you are crippled, old
and gray,
And we have need of stronger arms and fresher blood today."
128
"I'm not so weak, but I can shoot, and I've a good old gun,
t the range of traitors' hearts and pierce them one by one;
And if a bullet should find me out and lay me on my face,
My soul will go to Washington, and not. to Arnold's place.
"I am ready, (General, so you let a post to me be given,
Where Washington can look down on me as he looks down from
Heaven,,
And -say to Putnam at his side, or maybe General Wayne,
"There stands old Billie Johnson, he fought at Lundy's Lane."
THE GRAVE OF THE SECTION HAND.
They laid him away on the brow of the hill,
Outside of the right-of-way.
And the old boss whispered, "Peace, be still,"
Till the call on the Final Day.
They had placed him where he had wished to lie,
When his time would come, he said,
Where he'd list to the wire's mournful sigh,
To the foreman's "Joint ahead!"
For many a year he had paced that beat,
He had pumped o'er every tie.
And now from his narrow, last retreat
He could feel the freights roll by;
For from his rest, 'neath the willow's shade,
His spirit would guard the track;
He would know when the engine struck the grade,
Hear the old call, "Center back!''
He would hear the tramp of the "extra gang,"
The dago's clattering tongue,
The voice of the Irish boss he knew.
And the water-boy >'s whistle and song.
And lonely he'd bo when the sun' last glare
Had faded away in the night,
And left him alone with the feeble flare
Of the distant red switch-light.
And the .old boss fastened a band of black
To the unused handle-bar,
And he said, "Xow. men. the speed we'll slack
with the old hand r car
The place on the brow of the hill beyond,
We will make up the minute we're hi;
While the birds are singing their morning song
O'er the grave of our old-time mate."
129
THE MAGIC GLASS.
I went one night with a high-priced thirst to loaf in a hooze
bazaar,
And as I sampled the old red dope I leaned on the polished bar ;
My pockets were filled with the good, long green, -my raiments
were soft and new,
And I felt as fresh as a cabbage flower that's kissed with a
nice wet dew;
Behind the bar a mirror stood as big as your parlor floor,
And I looked and looked in that glittering glass, then I won-
dered and looked some more.
My own reflection I did not see, but there where it should have
been,
There stood the form of a cringing bum, all crumpled and
soaked with gin;
His nose was red, his eyes were bleared, unshorn was his
swollen face,
And I thought it queer that so seedy a bum would come to so
swell a place.
I turned around for a better look at this effigy of despair.
And I nearly fell in a little heap, for the effigy wasn't there;
The bartender laughed, "It's the Magic Glass," he said with a
careless yawn,
"It shows a man how he is apt to look years hence when his
roll is gone."
THE TWO 'DONAHUES.
We came from Tipperary a few short weeks ago,
With spirits light and airy, two emigrants, you know;
So now we ask your pardon, smile on us if you please,
For we come from Tipperary so far beyant the seas.
Digging turf was our occupation in the bogs of Allen then,
But we're told that in this nation we'll at least be aldermen;
We're sure of big positions in offices of note,
We'll join the politicians, boys, and for us you'll have to vote.
When we go back to Ireland it's then it will be said,
AYe '11 rise \ip in our sireland, the green above the red ;
So all the world may glory whenever they hear the news
Of Ireland and the story of the two 'Donahues.
130
RE^ KNCES.
The harp that once through Taras Hall played many a good
old tin
Coine back to Erin, Molly Bawn, and the Rising, of the Moon;
Kathleen Mavourneen andCruirkeenlawn-arrah, where 's that
harp, today ?
For the only tune that rises now is Ta-ra-bom-de-a.
was an old man Flynn and what do you think of him?
. the hat that lie wore it was all caved in,
would all shout as he here goes
dirty old man Flynn."
And then they'd - I a derrick and hoist it, and hang
it on the shelf,
tret a derrick and hoist it, and then go hang yourself!
urly frightens me out of my life to hear those imps of sin,
rake a bri.-k and go hit that flannel-mouthed Mick and cave
his old dicer in."
THE MORXIXG AFTER.
rimes, old scout, in the morning, when the dawn looks cold
and -gray,
And I lie 'mong the perfumed flowers thinking thoughts I dare
not say,
I think on the stunts of 'the night before and I smile a feeble
smile.
And I say to myself for the hundredth time, "Is it really worth
the while?"
Then I pick up the morning paper and see where some goodly
man
never soused at all in his life, or never said * * Hell ' ' or
"Damn,"
"Who never stayed out till the wee small hours or jollied the
ibrette,
! on the evils of drinking, of cards and the cig-
arette.
down in the midst of a useful life," the headline does
a'libly say,
Or '(audit by death's grim reaper, he has crossed the great
Highway. "
They bury him deep while a few friends weep, and the world
passes on with a sigh,
131
And that saintly man is forgotten soon, just the same as you
or I.
Then I says to myself, "Well, Jack, old boy, when you are
called to make the jump.
When you reach the pla.ee where the good and the bad must
bump the eternal burnps,
You can smile to yourself and chuckle, though the path be
exceedingly hot,
When you were on earth you were going some" now is that
an unholy thought?
Then I arise aiid attach a cracked iceband to the cr.own of my
battered hat,
And I wander forth for a cold gin fizz she is a great old world
at that;
Then I go on my way rejoicing, what 's the use to sob or sigh,
Take the route, old scout, and be merry, for tomorrow you
niav die.
THE KLONDIKE MINER.
A Klondike City mining man lay dying on the ice,
There was lack of women's nursing, for lie didn't have the price,
But a comrade knelt beside him as the sun sank to repose,
To hear what he might have to say and watch him while he
froze.
The dying man lie raised liis head above the banks of snow,
And he said, "I've never seen it thaw when 'twas .forty-five
below ;
Take a message and a token to some distant friends thereat,
For I was born at Gibbons, at Gibbons on the Platte-
11 Tell my brothers and companions if ever you get back East~
That this blooming Klondike -country is no place for man or
beast.
For the mountains are too rugged and the weatfier is too cold,
And the wheat fields of Nebraska yield a better grade of gold.
Here an honest day of labor won't buy a pound of gre;.
And the price of leather biscuits is sixty cents api; 1
Tell my father not to sorrow with a sorrow deep and dense.
For I would not thus have perished if I had a lick of sense,
But to keep the sorrel horses and the high-grade -cattle fat
Upon the farm at Gibbons, at Gibbons on the Platte.
132
"I thought to make- A fortune here/' the dying man did say,
And then he hove a sigh or two and froze up right away;
And it took of golden shekels two hundred, yes, more than that,
To ship him back to Gibbons, to Gibbons on the Platte.
133
CORRECTION
A correction in typographical error made on Page 47.
THE LASS OF DUNMORE
As I went a- walking one morning,
Bright Phoebus so clearly did shine,
And the meadow larks warbled melodious,
While the roses in the valley did twine;
It was down by a grove where I wondered,
A while to repose in the shade,
On my destiny for to ponder,
It was there I beheld a fair maid.
134
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