KITTY TYRRELL. YOU RE looking as fresh as the morn, darling, You're looking as bright as the day; But while on your charms I'm dilating. You're stealing my poor heart away. But keep it and welcome, mavourneen, Its loss I'm not going to mourn; Yet one heart's enough for a body, So, pray, give me yours in return; Mavourneen, mavourneen, O, pray, give me yours in return. I've built me a neat little cot, darling, I've pigs and potatoes in store; I've twenty good pounds in the bank, love, And may be a pound or two more. It's all very well to have riches, But I'm such a covetous elf, I can't help still sighing for something, And, darling, that something's yourself; Mavourneen, mavourneen, And that something, you know, is yourself. You're smiling, and that's a good sign, darling, Say "yes," and you'll never repent; You'll be my own Mistress Malone. LIMERICK IS BEAUTIFUL. As everybody knows; But' tis not the river or the fish Nor with the town of Limerick I've any fault to find.-Ochone, ochone. The girl I love is beautiful And soft-eyed as the fawn; She lives in Garryowen, And is called the Colleen Bawn. And proudly as that river flows Through that famed city, As proudly, and without a word, That Colleen goes by me.-Ochone, ochone. If I was made the Emperor Or Julius Cæsar, or the Lord Lieutenant of the land, I'd give my plate and golden store, I'd give up my army; The horses, the rifles, and the foot, And the Royal Artillery.—Ochone, ochone. I'd give the fleet of sailing ships A beggar I would go to bed, If by my side, for my sweet bride, I had found my Colleen Bawn.-Ochone, ochone. "Very well, thin," says she, " ye can lave the house and be sure to take wid ye yer 'right'; And if Michael and Nora think just as ye do, ye can all of ye lave to-night." So just for St. Patrick's glory we wint; and, as sure as Mary Magee is me name, It's a house full of nagurs she's got now, which the same is a sin and a shame. Bad luck to them all! A poor body, I think, had need of a comferable glass; It's a miserable time in Ameriky for a dacent Irish-born lass. If she sarves the saints,, and is kind to her friends, then she loses her home and her pay, And there's thousands of innocent martyrs like me on ivery St. Patrick's Day. THE SPRIG OF SHILLELAH. OCH, love is the soul of a nate Irishman, He loves all the lovely, loves all that he can, With your sprig of shillelah and shamrock so green ?" His heart is good-humor'd, 'tis honest and sound, No malice or hatred is there to be found. He courts and marries, he drinks and he fights, For love, all for love, for in that he delights, With his sprig of shillelah and shamrock so green. With his sprig of shillelah and shamrock so green; He meets with a friend, and for love knocks him down At evening returning, as homeward he goes, With your sprig of shillelah and shamrock so green." Bless the country, say I, that gave Patrick his birth, May the rose, leek, and thistle long flourish and twine "Twas told of thee the world around, Were cursed and branded as thy foes, What fate is thine, unhappy isle, By moral force wert thou betrayed, TEDDY O'NEAL. ACUSHLA GAL MACHREE-Continued. I've given thee my youth and prime, And manhood's waning years; I've blest thee in thy sunniest time, And shed for thee my tears; And mother, tho' thou'st cast away The child who'd die for thee, My fondest wish is still to pray— For Cushla gal machree. I've tracked for thee the mountain sides The rich have spurned me from their door Yet do I love thee more and more-- OH, MOLLY, I CAN'T SAY YOU'RE HONEST. Он, Molly, I can't say you're honest, When young vagabones rob its nest. But I'm kiltMay the quilt Lie light on your beautiful form But, my love, when 'tis not, May it rowl you up cosey and warm! Now, if you are sleepin', dear Molly, Phillilew! But I'm kiltMay the quilt Lie light on your beautiful form But, my love, when 'tis not, I know that your father is stingy, And likewise your mother the same; 'Tis very small change that you'll bring me, Exceptin' the change o' your name; So be quick with the change, dearest Molly, Be the same more or less as it may, And my own name, my darlin', I'll give you The minnit that you name the day! Weirasthru! Phillilew! But I'm kilt May the quilt Lie light on your beautiful form I DREAMT but last night, oh! bad cess to the dreaming, I dreamt, while the tears down my pillow were streaming, Oh! didn't I wake with a weeping and wailing, The grief of the thought was too much to conceal; I went to the cabin he danc'd his wild jigs in, Shall I ever forget when the big ship was ready, But what would be gold to the joy I should feel My name it is Nell, right candid I tell, And I live near a cool hill I never will deny, I had a large drake, the truth for to spake, My grandfather left me when going to die; He was merry and sound, and would weigh twenty pound, The universe round would I rove for his sake. Bad luck to the robber, be he drunken or sober, That murdered Nell Flaherty's beautiful drake. His neck it was green, and rare to be seen, He was fat, plump, and heavy, and brisk as a bee. He could fly like a swallow, or swim like a hake, But some wicked habbage, to grease his white cabbage, Has murdered Nell Flaherty's drake! May his pig never grunt, may his cat never hunt, That a ghost may him haunt in the dark of the night. May his hens never lay, may his horse never neigh, May his goat fly away like an old paper kite; May his duck never quack, may his goose be turned black And pull down his stack with her long yellow beak. May the scurvy and itch never part from the britch Of the wretch that murdered Nell Flaherty's drake! May his rooster ne'er crow, may his bellows not blow, May his wife have no frock for to shade her backbone. That the bugs and the fleas may this wicked wretch tease, And a piercing north breeze make him tremble and shake. May a four years' old bug build a nest in the lug Of the monster that murdered Nell Flaherty's drake. NELL FLAHERTY'S DRAKE.-Continued. May his pipe never smoke, may his tea-pot be broke, May he always be fed on lobscouse and fish oil. The wretch that murdered Nell Flaherty's drake. May his dog yelp and howl with both hunger and cold, But the only good news I have to diffuse, Is of Peter Hughs and Paddy McCade, And crooked Ned Manson, and big-nosed Bob Hanson, THE IRISH GIRL. ONE evening, as I strayed down the river's side, So red and rosy were her cheeks, and yellow was her hair, Her shoes of Spanish leather were bound round with spangles gay, Why should you go and leave me, and slight your own Molly? The first time that I saw my love, I was sick and very bad, The first time that I saw my love she struck me in a trance; THE LAKES OF COLD FINN. Ir was early one morning young William had rose, So they walked right along till they came to Long Lane, So young William stepped off and swam the lake 'round, THE TIPPERARY CHRISTENING. It was down in that place, Tipperary, Where they're so airy, and so contrary, Where they kick up the devil's figarie, When they christened the beautiful boy. In comes the piper, sot thinking, And a-winking, and a-blinking, And a noggin of punch he was drinking, And wishing the parents great joy. When home from the church they came, Then the boy set up such a-bawling, And such a-squalling, and caterwauling, For he got such a mauling, Oh, that was the day of great joy. Then the piper set up such a-moaning, And such a-droning, and such a-croning, In the corner his comether was turning, When they christened sweet Dennis, the boy. The aristocracy came to the party, Who said that was French for a name; Cora Teresa Maud McCann, Angelina Rocke, and Julia McCafferty, Rignold Mormon Duke, Morris McGan, And Clarence Ignatius McGurk; Cornelius Horatio Flaherty's wife, Adolphus Grace, and Dr. O'Rafferty, Eva McLaughlin, and Cora Muldoon, And Brigadier-General Burke; They were dancing the polka-mazurka, And the polka-redowa divine; With their coffee, tea, whisky, and wine. They had all kinds of tea, they had Shosong, They had Ningnong, and Drinkdong, |