"I swore it," says he, “be the sowl of Saint Paythur, A nate little daughter should be me next son; But since ye have chosen a maskelin nayther, I'm bound to disown ye, as sure as a gun! "I hope ye will mate wid the price of transgression, And mark me, me lad! 'tis me private impression “Be quiet, me angil,” says Bridget, me mother, "Tis aisy to talk when the mischief is done; Who knows but some day ye may want for a brother, And thin ye'll be glad that yere girl is a son!" (The wimmin are prophets, wheriver ye find 'em; For many's the time I have help'd me poor dad To see the door latchet directly behind him, And sometimes to walk-whin the whiskey was bad!) The way I was bate from the night till the mornin', But batins are said to agree wid some people; And sure they were blessin's that caused me to grow Until I was almost as tall as a staple, And only fell short be an acre or so. Wan mornin' whin I was ingaged in the gardin, ""Tis hoein' the praties," says I, wid affection; "Me farrum, ye know, is not quite so extinsive, 66 "Yer servant," said I, like a dignified crayture, "The wurruld invites me to walk on her bussum, "Thin walk on the bussum, me darlin'," he groonted, "But mind that ye niver git down in the mout; Nor go to the land where an Irishman's hoonted By oogly know-nothings that's lurkin' about." I scorn'd to reply to the spacious suggestion; Ye mind there's a kingdom called Donnybrook famous, Bad luck to the fortune that carried me in it! 'Twas she was the landlord that thrated me dacent, And be the same token I came for to love her, 66 Och murther an' ounds! was the divil behind me, And sure she had childers, the wildest young divils And wan of me first matrimonial evils Was havin' their scratches all over me face! "Me darlin'," I said to their illigant mother, Because I complain'd of sooch singular tratement, Och! sure sooch a life as I led wid the crayture If I didn't wear an ould shirt for a saison, Whiniver the night spread abroad her dark pinions, Thim childers would chatter like monkeys in pain; And thin I was call'd from me drame-land dominions To comfort the spalpeens of Misther MacShane! If coxcombs and guardsmen made love to me woman, And mintion me contrast wid Misther MacShane! If I took a shillin' to get me some whiskey, Be all of the Pow'rs but she'd grow mighty frisky, I niver went out of the house in the mornin' And whin I would vinture to spake like an aiqual, I lived like a baste that is kill'd be its master, I came to this coonthry of freedom and progress; Or daycintly ask'd to be sooch, be the Pow'rs! But I shall go back to me gim of the owshun To give a free vint to me pow'rful emoshun, And dance on the grave of ould Misther MacShane! Robert Henry Newell ("Orpheus C. Kerr ") ROBINSON CRUSOE The night was thick and hazy Carried down the crew and Captain in the sea; For they never, never found 'em, And I know they didn't come ashore with me. Oh, 'twas very sad and lonely And I sit and watch for people at the door. I spent no time in looking For a girl to do my cooking, As I'm quite a clever hand at making stews; But I had that fellow Friday Just to keep the tavern tidy, And to put a Sunday polish on my shoes. I have a little garden That I'm cultivating lard in, As the things I eat are rather tough and dry; Prickly pears, and parrot gizzards, And I'm really very fond of beetle-pie. The clothes I had were furry, And it made me fret and worry When I found the moths were eating off the hair; And I had to scrape and sand 'em, And I boiled 'em and I tanned 'em, Till I got the fine morocco suit I wear. I sometimes seek diversion In a family excursion With the few domestic animals you see; As refreshments for the parrot, Then we gather as we travel Just to give the day a scientific tone. If the roads are wet and muddy, For the Goat is very clever at a sum — While the cat is taking lessons on the drum. We retire at eleven, And we rise again at seven; And I wish to call attention, as I close, Are correct about their collars, And particular in turning out their toes. Charles Edward Carryl |