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The uppers were broke and the soles were thin-
Brian O’Linn was in want of a brooch,
BY MEMORY INSPIRED.
By memory inspired
And love of country fired,
And the patriotic glow
Of my Spirit must bestow
In October 'Ninety-Seven
May his soul find rest in Heaven William Orr to execution was led on:
The jury, drunk, agreed
That Irish was his creed:
In 'Ninety-Eight—the month July,
The informer's pay was high;
But MacCann was Reynolds' first
One could not allay his thirst; So he brought up Bond and Byrne that are gone, boys gone. Here's the memory of the friends that are gone!
We saw a nation's tears
Shed for John and Henry Sheares; Betrayed by Judas, Captain Armstrong:
We may forgive, but yet
We never can forget
How did Lord Edward die ?
Like a man, without a sigh!
But Sirr, with steel-clad breast
And coward heart at best, Left us cause to mourn Lord Edward that is gone, boys gone. Here 's the memory of our friends that are gone!
Closed this cruel history,
Oh, had their spirits been wise,
They might then realize Their freedom-but we drink to Emmet that is gone, boys
gone. Here's the memory of the friends that are gone!
CHARMING MARY NEAL.
I'm a bold undaunted Irishman, my name is John McCann.
Whilst in cold irons I lay bound, my love sent word to me: “ Don't fear my father's anger, for I will set you free."
1 Father Tom Maguire, the well-known Catholc controversialist.
Her father gave consent to let me out on bail,
Her father kept her close confined, for fear I should her see,
With wrath and indignation, her father loud did call,
and dale, Saying, “You 're welcome here, my Johnny dear," says charm
ing Mary Neal.
We both sat on a sunny bank, and there we talked awhile.
She gave consent, and back she went, and stole the best of
clothes, And to no one in the house her secret she made known; Five hundred pounds of ready gold from her father she did
steal, And that was twice I did elope with charming Mary Neal.
Our coach it was got ready to Derry for to go,
It was over the proud and swelling seas our ship did gently
glide, And on our passage to Quebec, six weeks a matchless tide; Until we came to Whitehead Beach we had no cause to wail, On Crossford Bay I thought that day I lost my Mary Neal.
On the ninth of June, in the afternoon, a heavy fog came on; The captain cries, “ Look out, my boys! I fear we are all gone.”
Our vessel on a sandy bank was driven by a gale,
With the help of boats and ship's crew, five hundred they were
Her father wrote me a letter as you may understand,
As I roved out one summer's morning, speculating most
curiously, To my surprise, I soon espied a charming fair one approach
ing me; I stood awhile in deep meditation, contemplating what should
I do, But recruiting all my sensations, I thus accosted the Colleen
“Are you Aurora, or the beauteous Flora, Euterpasia, or
Venus bright? Or Helen fair, beyond compare, that Paris stole from her
Grecian's sight? Thou fairest creature, you have enslaved me, I am intoxicated
by Cupid's clue, Whose golden notes and infatuation deranged my ideas for
you, Colleen Rue.”
“Kind sir, be easy, and do not tease me, with your false praise
so jestingly, Your dissimulations and invitations, your fantastic praises,
seducing me. I am not Aurora, or the beauteous Flora, but a rural maiden
to all men's view, That's here condoling my situation, and my appellation is the Colleen Rue.”
1 Cáilin Ruadh, red (haired) girl.
“Was I Hector, that noble victor, who died a victim of Grecian
skill, Or was I Paris, whose deeds were various, as an arbitrator on
Ida's hill, I would roam through Asia, likewise Arabia, through Penn
sylvania seeking you, The burning regions, like famed Vesuvius, for one embrace of
the Colleen Rue."
“Sir, I am surprised and dissatisfied at your tantalizing inso
lence, I am not so stupid, or enslaved by Cupid, as to be duped by
your eloquence, Therefore desist from your solicitations, I am engaged, I de
clare it's true, To a lad I love beyond all earthly treasures, and he'll soon
embrace his Colleen Rue.”
THE CROPPY BOY.
It was very early in the spring,
It was early in the night,
'Twas in the guard house where I was laid,
As I was passing by my father's door,
As I was walking up Wexford Street