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A man who married sixteen wives, for Poly-gamy's
arrested ; A boy has swallow'd nine clasp knives, and all of them
digested ; A cat has hatch'd young ducklings two, each one
frisks and capers; They're both alive—it must be true, because 'tis in
A lady, o'er fond of a glass (you must not think it
fustian), Has met her death so sad, alas ! by brandy's hot
cornbustion ; It burnt her vitals thro' and thro', she melted into
vapours, And ne'er seen since—it must be true, because 'tis in
A lady in the South of France, who'd been some five
year's married, Was taken in a sort of trance, and coffin'd down and
buried, In six months' time she came to life, and from the
grave's sad vapours She walk'd away-it must be true, because 'tis in the papers.
last week, down in the west, inclined to be a glutton, He ate near half a bullock dress'd, and six raw legs of
mutton Drank porter, gallons twenty-two, which washed down
all the capers, In just an hour-it must be true, because 'twas in the
papers. Sweet Miss A., of ninety-eight, with Mr. B., of
eighty, llave enter'd holy wedlock's state, with both their
purses weighty ;
A son's already come to view, at which the old man
capers, Depend upon't, it must be true, because 'tis in the
Some fishermen lave lately seen, as lately they were
roaming, Four mermaids, handsome, sweet, and clean, their
ha'r so tidy combing; They let them have a nearer view, to see their frisks
and capers, Then they dived-it must be true, because 'tis in the
papers. Thus every day, nay, every hour, shows p'ainly what
the news is, And whether it be sweet or sour, inforins us and
amises; Then let us give our best thanks to those who tell
their capers, And ev'ry day so thankful view the facts in all the
THE OULD BOG TOLE. Tux pig is in the mire, and the cow is on the grass, And a man without a woman is no better than an ass; My mother likes the ducks, and the ducks like the
drake, And sweet Judy Flanagan I'd die for her sake. My Judy she's as fair as the flower on the lea, She's neat and complete from the neck to the knee; We met t'o ler night our hearts to condole, And I sat Judy down by the ould Boy Hole. Singing-Cu-hla mavourneen, will you marry me? Arrah, cushla mavourneen, wil you marry me? Arrals, cushla mavourneen, will you marry me? Would you fancy the bouncing young Barney Magee ? 'Then Judy she blushell, and hung down her lead, Saying, Barney, you blackguard, I'd like to get
ned; But they say you're so rough, ünd you are such a
rake"“Don't believe it,” says I, “ for it's a la niistake ; To kcep you genteel I'll work at my ir:ule, l'll handle tho shovel, the hook, and the spade; The turf to procure which is better than coil, And I'll work to my knees in the ould boy Hole.
Singing, Cus!ıla mavourveen, &c. " Arrahı, give me your hand, and consent just at once, Suru it's not every day you will get such a chance ; When the priest wakes us one, how happy I'll be With the beautiful, dutiful, Mistress Magee ! Tho' the meal should be scarce we'll have praties
enough, And if you should long for more delicate stuff, I'll take out the ould rod which my granıtather stole, And I'll go fish for eels in the ould Boy Hole.
Singing, Cushla mavourneen, &c. “Fino chillren we'll have, for we must mind that, They'll be Derby and Barney, and Kitty and Pat; They'll be Judy so meek, and Mary so bluff"“O stop! stop !"she cried,“lave you not got enough!"
'I have not," said I, sure I'll riot be content Tiil you bring home as many as there's days in the
How the neighbours will stare when we go for a
stroll, When we all promenade rounıl the ould Dog Hole.”
Singing, Cushla mavourueen, &c. "By the tokey !" says she, “I can scarcely refuse, For Burney the blarney you know how to use; You bave otbered my heart with the picture you've
dritwn, If I thought I could trust you, the job might be done!"
"Holy murder !" says I,“ do you doubt what I say? If I thought 'twould convince you, I'd swa:c ha's a
day; • Oh no," she replied, "it's of no uso at all," Thon she whispered consent by the oult Boy Holo,
“ Then giie me a kiss, my joy and delight!"
YES, KIND SIR, AND THANK YOU
As blithe I ganged to milk my kine,
Wi' bouny gait ani iwa black e-n,
'Twas, “ Yes, kind sir, and I thank you too." Again he mel, me i' the e'en,
As I was linkan o'er the lee,
And suid, “Blithe lass, I'se gang wi' thee."
His tirtin plaid, and bonnet blue,
Say ye«, kiud sir, and I thank you too."
Gave notice that 'twas time to part;
For an! the lad had stol'n my heart.
Then kissed sae sweet, I vow 'tis true,
'Twas, “ Yes, kind sir, and I thank you too."
Grown bauld, he pressed to stay the night,
Then griped me close unto his breast
Gin that I grant wi’out the priest :
I ken right what I then maun do;
'Twill be, 'Yes, love, and I thank you too.'»
FAITH, I'LL AWA' TO THE BRIDAL.
[Air—"Hie awa' to the Bridal.”-PLANCILE.]
For there will be tippling there ;
To whom I don't know, and don't care.
And tipsy as pipers, goori lack ;
So, faith, I'll awa' to the bridal, &c.
I once left the bottle for Cupid,
And bade an adieu to my glass ;
And courted a cherry-cheek'd lass.
Say, that it gave me no rain ;
So, faith, I'll awa' to the bridal, &c.
They say there's five reasors for drinking,
But more, I'm sure, may be got ;
A reasun why people should not.