THE IRISH VOLUNTEER. YE daughters of old Ireland, these lines to you I write, The worthy son of liberty, who's got the heart to go The cymbals are sounding, the trumpet shrill doth blow In the fearful hour of battle, when the cannons loud do roar, Come all ye worthy gentlemen, who have the heart and means, FATHER MOLLOY. PADDY MCCABE was dying one day, And Father Molloy he came to confess him; Paddy prayed hard he would make no delay, But forgive him his sins and make haste for to bless him. "First tell me your sins," says Father Molloy, "For I'm thinking you've not been a very good boy." 66 Oh," says Paddy, so late in the evenin', I fear "Twould throuble you such a long story to hear, For you've ten long miles o'er the mountains to go, While the road I've to travel's much longer you know. So give us your blessin' and get in the saddle, To tell all my sins my poor brain it would addle; And the docther gave ordhers to keep me so quiet— "Twould disturb me to tell all my sins, if I'd thry it; And your Reverence has towld us, unless we tell all, 'Tis worse than not makin' confession at all. So I'll say in a word I'm no very good boyAnd therefore your blessin', sweet Father Molloy." "Well, I'll read from a book," says Father Molloy, 66 The manifold sins that humanity's heir to; And when you hear those that your conscience annoy, "Well," says Father Molloy, "if your sins I forgive, You'll leave off your old tricks, and begin to live newly." FATHER MOLLOY.-Continued. "I forgive ev'rybody," says Pat, with a groan, Except that big vagabone Micky Malone; And him I will murdher if ever I can—” "Tut, tut!" says the priest, "you're a very bad man; For without your forgiveness, and also repentance, You'll ne'er go to heaven, and that is my sentence." 66 Poo!" says Paddy McCabe, "that's a very hard caseWith your Reverence and heaven I'm content to make pace; But with heaven and your Reverence I wondher-Och hone— You would think of comparin' that blackguard MaloneBut since I'm hard press'd and that I must forgive, I forgive if I die-but as sure as I live That ugly blackguard I will surely desthroy!- PETTICOAT LANE. WHEN to Dublin I came from the sweet County Down, He brought me thro' streets, lanes, and alleys so grand, Ri tu ral, ru ral, ri tu ral, ru ral le, etc. Convenient to Petticoat Lane there is a place, We got loose from this spot, myself and my friend, I couldn't do less than a teaster to spend ; But we spied boys and girls in a laughable group, Says I: Are these what you call your poorhouse recruits? My friend thought to drag me away by the sleeve, I kept groping about, like a man that was blind, I walloped away, and I got walloped, too, I was led through the crowd, and heard somebody saying, There's a peeler most killed in Petticoat Lane. These words like a thunderbolt fell on my ear, PATER NOSTER. FATHER of all! who reign'st supreme, Is hallow'd there, so be it here; "Thy kingdom come!" ah, yes, my God! come!" 66 At Donnybrook fair I met her, I asked her up to dance a jig, I asked her would she be my wife, Whack fal la, etc. PETTICOAT LANE.-Continued. The reckoning it came to a hog and a groat, For which the landlord he took the lend of my coat; I started without, still cursing the town, Says he: You have killed C. 106 Arrah, be aisy, sir, I want none of your tricks! But the sergeant and twenty more swore it was plain That I was the bully of Petticoat Lane. They all swarmed about me, like flies on a cask, ROCKY ROAD TO DUBLIN. IN the merry month of June, when first from home I started, CHORUS. For it is the rocky road, here's the road to Dublin; Here's the rocky road, now fire away to Dublin! The steam-coach was at hand, the driver said he'd cheap ones, A pain in my shin bone, it set my heart a-bubbling; To see the lassies smile, laughing all the while Until I was almost tired of the rocky road to Dublin. In Dublin next arrived, thought it was a pity A coachman raised his hand as if myself was wanting, I went up to a stand, full of cars for jaunting; 66 Step up, my boy! says he; "Ah, ah! that I will with pleasure," "And to the strawberry beds, I'll drive you at your leisure." "A strawberry bed?" says I, "faith, that would be too high! On one of straw I'll lie, and the berries won't be troubling; He drove me out as far, upon an outside car, Faith! such jolting never wor on the rocky road to Dublin. JUDY MCCARTY.-Continued. Twelve months after we were wed, What do you think she brought, sir? But a pair of twins as like their dad, As ever soup's like broth, sir. And now I'll finish my little song, My song so gay and hearty; The Irish boys such devils are For getting the young McCartys. Whack fal la, etc. DRIMMIN DUBH DHEELISH. Oн, I'm but a poor man, And I had but one cow, And so sleek was her tail, That I thought my poor drimmin dubh Agus oro, drimmin dubh Oro, drimmin dubh Returning from mass. On a morning in May, I roared and I brawled, And my neighbors did call To save my poor drimmin dubh, She being my all. Ah, neighbor! was this not A sorrowful day, When I gazed on the water Where my drimmin dubh lay? With a drone and a drizzen, She bade me adieu. And the answer I made Was a loud pillalu Poor drimmin dubh sank, I saw her again, Like a bunch of ripe blackberries Rolled in the rain. Arrah, plague take you, drimmin dubh! What made you die, Or why did you leave me, For what and for why? I would rather lose Paudeen, My bouchalleen bawn, Than part with my drimmin dubh, Now that you are gone. When drimmin dubh lived, And before she was dead, That I soaked with my scone, PADDY CAREY. "TWAS at the town of nate Clogheen That Sergeant Snapp met Paddy Carey; A claner b'y was never seen, Brisk as a bee, light as a fairy; His brawny shoulders, four feet square, His checks like thumping red potatoes; His legs would make a chairman stare, And Pat was loved by all the ladies; Old and young, grave and sad, Deaf and dumb, dull or mad; Waddling, twaddling, limping, squinting, Light, brisk and airy. CHORUS. All the sweet faces at Limerick races, tov, Nimble-footed, black-eyed, rosy-cheeked, Oh, sweet Paddy, beautiful Paddy, His heart was made of Irish oak, But the deuce a bit at all of the blarney. Now Sergeant Snapp, so sly and keenWhile Pat was coaxing duck-legged Mary- A shilling slipped so nate and clane, Cheeks so round, eyes so bright: Whistling, humming, drinking, drumming, Light, tight, and airy.-CHORUS. |