I'M NOT MYSELF AT ALL.

On, I'm not myself at all,

Molly dear, Molly dear,

I'm not myself at all.

Nothin' carin', nothin' knowin',
"Tis aither you I'm goin',

Faith, your shadow 'tis I'm growin',
Molly dear,

And I'm not myself at all!

Th' other day I went confessin', And I ask'd the father's blessin'; "But," says I, "don't give me one intirely, For I fretted so last year

But the half o' me is here,

So give the other half to Molly Brierly.' Oh! I'm not myself at all!

Oh, I'm not myself at all,

Molly dear, Molly dear,

My appetite's so small

I once could pick a goose;
But my buttons is no use,

Faith, my tightest coat is loose,
Molly dear,

And I'm not myself at all!
If thus it is I waste,

You'd betther, dear, make haste,

Before your lover's gone away intirely; If you don't soon change your mind, Not a bit of me you'll find—

And what 'ud you think' o' that, Molly Brierly?—

Oh, I'm not myself at all!

Oh, my shadow on the wall,
Molly dear, Molly dear,
Isn't like myself at all.

For I've got so very thin,
Myself says 'tisn't him,
But that purty girl so slim,
Molly dear,

And I'm not myself at all!
If thus I smaller grew,

All fretting, dear, for you,

'Tis you should make me up the deficiency;

So just let Father Taaff

Make you my betther half,

And you will not the worse for the addition be

Oh, I'm not myself at all!

I'll be not myself at all,

Molly dear, Molly dear,

Till you my own I call!

Since a change o'er me there came
Sure you might change your name-
And twould just come to the same,
Molly dear,

"Twould just come to the same;
For if you and I were one,
All confusion would be gone,

And 'twould simplify the matther intirely;
And 'twould save us so much bother,
When we'd both be one another-

So listen now to rayson, Molly Brierly;
Oh, I'm not myself at all!

ELLEN BAWN.

ELLEN BAWN-oh, Ellen Bawn, you darling-darling dear, you, Sit awhile beside me here, I'll die unless I'm near you!

'Tis for you I'd swim the Suir and breast the Shannon's waters; For, Ellen dear, you've not your peer in Galway's blooming daughters!

Had I Limerick's gems and gold at will to mete and measure, Were Loughhrea's abundance mine, and all Portumna's treasure, These might lure me, might insure me many and many a new love, But oh! no bribe could pay your tribe for one like you, my true

love!

Blessings be on Connaught! that's the place for sport and raking!
Blessings, too, my love, on you, a-sleeping and a-waking!
I'd have met you, dearest Ellen, when the sun went under,
But, woe! the flooding Shannon broke across my path in thunder.

Ellen! I'd give all the deer in Limerick's parks and arbors,
Ay, and all the ships that rode last year in Munster's harbors,
Could I blot from Time the hour I first became your lover,
For, oh! you've given my heart a wound it never can recover!
Would to God that in the sod my corpse to-night were lying,
And the wild birds wheeling o'er it, and the winds a-sighing,
Since your cruel mother and your kindred chose to sever
Two hearts that love would blend in one forever and forever!

He said to his companions, If you prove true to me,
This day we'll fight with all our might and gain our liberty;
Said Ward and Webber, We will not fight, our comrades are so
few,

Begone from me, you cowardly dogs, cried bold Jack Donahoe.

If you would prove true to me, I would record your name, The people they will look on you with scorn and with shameFor to hang on the gallows tree I do not intend to do,

So this day I'll fight with all my might, cried bold Jack Donahoe.

THE POACHER.-Continued. "No rasher will I cook for you, While betther is to spare, sir, But here's a jug of mountain dew, And there's a rattlin' hare, sir." St. Pathrick he looked mighty sweet, And, says he, "Good luck attind you, And, when you're in your windin' sheet, It's up to heaven I'll sind you.” O'Ryan gave his pipe a whiff-

Them tidin's is thransportin'; Bet may I ax your saintship if There's any kind of sportin'?" St. Patrick said, "A lion's there,

Two bears, a bull, and cancer"-
"Bedad," says Mick, "the huntin's rare;
St. Patrick, I'm your man, sir.”
So, to conclude my song aright,
For fear I'd tire your patience,
You'll see O'Ryan any night

Amid the constellations.
And Venus follows in his track,

Till Mars grows jealous raally,
But, faith, he fears the Irish knack
Of handling the shillaly.

THE BELLS OF SHANDON.

WITH deep affection and recollection

I often think of those Shandon bells, Whose sound so wild would, in days of childhood,

Fling round my cradle their magic spells.
On this I ponder, where'er I wander,
And thus grow fonder, sweet Cork, of
thee;

With thy bells of Shandon,
That sound so grand on

The pleasant waters of the river Lee.

I've heard bells chiming full many a clime in,

Tolling sublime in cathedral shrine; While at a glib rate brass tongues would vibrate, [thine;

But all their music spoke nought like For memory dwelling on each proud swelling Of thy belfry knelling its bold notes free, Made the bells of Shandon, Sound far more grand on

The pleasant waters of the river Lee. I've heard bells tolling "old Adrian's Mole " in,

Their thunder rolling from the Vatican, And cymbals glorious, swinging uproarious In the gorgeous turrets of Notre Dame: But thy sounds were sweeter, than the dome of Peter

Flings o'er the Tiber, pealing solemnly. O! the bells of Shandon, Sound far more grand on The pleasant waters of the river Lee. There's a bell in Moscow, while on tower and kiosko

In St. Sophio the Turkman gets, And loud in air, calls men to prayer From the tapering summit of tall min

LAMENTATION OF JAMES RODGERS.

COME all you tender Christians, I hope you will draw near,
And likewise pay attention to those few lines I have here;
For the murder of Mr. Swanton I am condemned to die
On the twelfth day of November, upon the gallows high.

My name is James Rodgers-the same I never denied,
Which leaves my aged parents in sorrow for to cry;
It's little they ever thought, all in my youth and bloom,
I came into New York to meet my fatal doom.

My parents reared me tenderly, as you can plainly see,
And constantly good advice they used to give to me;
They told me to shun night-walking and all bad company,
Or State's prison or the scaffold would be the doom for me.

In bad houses and liquor I used to take delight,
And constantly my companions they used me there invite;
They all persuaded me the use of knives were free,

I might commit a murder, and hanged I would not be.

Upon the fatal night, as you may plainly see,
My companions advised me to go and have a spree;
My passion got the best of me, as you may plainly know,
I drew the fatal knife, and it proved my overthrow.

Mr. Swanton and his wife were passing through the street,
And in my drunken passion I chanced them for to meet;
They surely did not injure me-the same I'll ne'er deny,
But Satan being so near to me, I could not pass them by.

I staggered up against them, and then he turned around, And demanded if the sidewalk had not enough of ground; It's then I drew the fatal knife and stabbed him to the heart, Which leaves the loving wife from her husband for to part.

To Woodbridge then I quickly fled, thinking to escape,
But the hand of Providence was before me-indeed I was too late;
There I was taken prisoner and fetched unto my doom,
To die upon the gallows all in my youthful bloom.

My trial came on quickly, and condemned I was to die,
My companions and associates they were standing by';
I told them to take warning by that my humble fate,
To shun night-walking and bad company ere it be too late.

Farewell, my aged father! I ne'er will see you more,
And my broken-hearted mother, my loss you do deplore;
My sisters and brothers, to you I bid adieu,
Upon this fatal forenoon I have to part with you.

The morning of my execution was most heart-rending for to see,
My sister came from Jersey to take the last farewell of me;
She flew into my arms and bitterly did cry,

Saying: "My dear and loving brother, this day you are to die!"

Thanks to the Sheriff for his kindness to me,

Also my noble counselor who thought to get me free;
And likewise my faithful clergy who brought my mind to bear,
For now I die a true penitent, I solemnly declare.

My life is now ended-from this world I must part,
For the murder of Mr. Swanton I am sorry to the heart;
Let each wild and vicious youth a warning take by me.
To be ruled by their parents and shun bad company.