And the Navan bogs unask'd shoot out Huge kishes of turf to the hills about, To make at night The bonfires light, For the glorious CHRIST-EN-ING!!! LINES, Accompanying a Glass Goblet which was sent to the Lord Mayor of Dublin by the Dutchess of Richmond, for the purpose of drinking the K-g's health. Go, little goblet, bright and clear, Thou'rt not of gold-no, that would be Like tampering with Mayoralty; And bribing, as it were, thy way To bask beneath the Royal ray : But thou'rt of glass, through which all eyes May see thy curious qualities; And bear a clear ieproach to one Like me, O little goblet, thou Art cut, and most completely too; And when thou'rt crack'd, Oh, then thou'lt be A cast off side-board thing like me! THE KEENAN,* OR FAREWELL IRISH CRY ON THE DEPARTURE OF HIS MY FROM DUBLIN. I. FAREWELL! farewell! my best of K-G's! That said ten thousand handsome things, The Irish cry of Keenan is a recapitulation of all the virtues of the deceased or absent, each commencing with "It's you that," &c. and ending with "Wira sthru," and a loag howl, in which all join, II. It's you that wore the handsome wig, O wira sthru, &c. Frizz'd nately round your face so big, It's you that let yourself be seen, And hawk'd about through College-Green, As much as JOHNNY hawk'd his Q- N. O wira sthru, &c. III. It's you-it's you that's not afraid, O wira sthru, &c. To wear the Shamrock green cockade, O wira sthru, &c. It's long the green was on the shelf, For wearing it would hang yourself! IV. It's you that made Lord S O wira sthru, &c. MH roast, Ould DARLEY for his dirty toast. O wira sthru, &c. |