The table for our meals was spread; When these were done some book I read, Or sat and sewed, as humour led, While John at work was far away; And then some friend that chance might bring Sat with me, and we both talked on, Sometimes of many a foolish thing; We prattled till the day was gone, For I was giddy, young, and wild, And simple as the simplest child.
"A woman lived next room-her name
Was Mistress Kitty Donohoe-
When first into the house I came
I often met her on the stairs,
But didn't like her showy airs;
But she was sprightly company,
And forced her idle chat on me
For all that I could say or do :
On a child's errand she'd come in,
To get a needle or a pin,
Or ask what was the day about;
And then she'd fret and blame the weatherAnd sometimes slyly she'd pull out
A little flask of rum or gin,
And force me just to take a taste-
Indeed I always drank in haste,
For still my mind was full of care
Lest John should come and get us there
Tippling away together-
But fond of Mrs. Donohoe,
And fonder of the drop, I grew.
"Of visitors she had a train
Their names 'twould take an hour to tell; There was Miss Mary-Anne Magrane, And Mrs. Young and Mrs. Lawson, And Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Dawson; And Mrs. White, from Stocking LaneAs good a soul as e'er broke bread; At least, so Mrs. Lawson said;
I never knew the lady well,
But with her came Miss Jenny Bell, And one whose name has left my head.
"Miss Degan hurried from the Coombe,
And from the Rock ran Miss Devine-
Sometimes they over-thronged her room,
And then she showed them into mine:
Off went the bottle to the shop,
For all these ladies' loved the drop.
"With this gay set quite great I grew,
And John's poor pound so tight was drawn,
That half the week it wouldn't do,
And then I took his things to pawn.
Trick followed trick-ill brought on ill-
I saw not where my guilt began;
Misfortune to misfortune led-
I had some little beauty still;
And, in a weak and wicked hour,
When money over me had power,
I vilely wronged my husband's bed-
Oh! I was false to John M'Cann.
"And this went on twelve years and more;
A fit of illness came at last,
And then my conscience it was sore-
It keenly pained me for the past.
Oh! then that sickness just began,
Indeed I thought I should have died;
Poor John brought in a holy man,
Father Fitzhenry was his name,
And this old priest he often came
And prayed at my bed-side;
'Twould do you good his face to see-
He looked all peace and piety.
"To this good priest I told my shame-
I told him of my sinful life;
He called me by my proper name-
A wicked and a worthless wife.
Oh! the sad lesson that he gave!
Why, till I'm rotting in the grave,
I won't-I can't forget what then
He then spoke of-but through life again
My thoughts, my wishes, never ran
On any but on John M'Cann.
"I promised before God in heaven
To leave my drinking too :-
I made the promise; but, when given,
I found it would not do.
Oh! sir, I was but up and well,
When to the drop once more I fell!
My husband saw that all was gone,
And let me for a time go on:
Two growing boys were all we had,
And they in dirty rags were clad.
I pawned their clothes-I pawned my own-
I left poor John quite bare at last;
My figure as a show was shown
(So poor, so naked, I had grown)
'Twas shown as through the streets I passed; And many laughed this end to see
Of all my former finery.
"John bore as much as man could bear,
But got at last quite tired of me;
And, in mere madness and despair,
He bent his course across the sea:
He took my William in his care,
As good a son as son could be;
For he was brought up to the trade,
And a smart hand he soon was made.
"Good workmen may go any where-
They settled at New York, 'tis said;
But they were not a twelvemonth there
When I got word that both were dead;
I think at first some tears I shed-
A tear or two I might let fall,
But the next naggin banished all.
"Poor naked Joe, my other child,
Among the blackguards took his round,
Till one fine morning, in the street,
By great good luck he chanced to meet
A Swaddling dame, all smooth and mild,
And in that dame a friend he found;
She took him home, and he was taught
To do as tidy servants ought;
For clothing he was at no cost
Or food-Oh! sir, I'd bless that dame-
But that my boy's poor soul is lost;
For Joe, I tell it to his shame,
At once took to the holy plan-
A prim sly Swaddler he became ;
And he could whine and wheedle so,
The servants called him, Holy Joe;'
And, as he grew to be a man,
If any mentioned but my name,
I'm told he'd redden at the same;
And still he shunned me when I'd call:
'Twas hard-but I deserved it all.
Well! to the worst at last I went-
I've begged for twenty years and more;
Sometimes my heart has felt content,
And sometimes been both sad and sore:
Master! I'd be quite happy now,
If I to yonder shop could go ;-
I've but this penny left, I vow-
And that wont get the glass, you know.
Do, master dear!" -I paused in vain,
I could not let her ask again.
"What is the fashion must always be right,
sup in the morning or breakfast at night." What improvement 'twould be if they'd take some compassion, And what's always right make for ever the fashion.
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