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SONGS AND BALLADS OF IRELAND.

MY GOOD-LOOKING MAN.

COME, all you pretty maids, of courage brave and true,

I will teach you how to happy live, and avoid all troubles, too;
And if you live a wedded life, now plainly understand,
And don't you ever fall in love with all good-looking men.

When I was sixteen years of age, a damsel in my prime,
I daily thought on wedded life, and how I'd be at the time;
I daily thought on wedded life, its pleasures I did scan,
And I sighed and sobbed, both night and day, to get a nice young

man.

My wish, it seems, too soon I got, for one Sunday afternoon, As home from church I gaily tripped, I met a fair gossoon; He looked so fine about the face, to win him I made a plan, And that very day I set my cap for that good-looking man.

Again, by chance, as out I stepped to take a pleasant roam,
I met this handsome gentleman, who wished to see me home;
I'd fain say no, but it was no use, to go with me was his plan,
So to my home I walked along with my good-looking man.

He said to me, as on we walked: My dear and only love,
If with me you'll consent to wed, I will ever constant prove;
I'll ever be a husband kind and do the best I can,
So my heart and hand I then did give to my good-looking man.

That night was fixed for us to wed-he bid me have all cheer-
He pressed me to his breast, saying: Oh, my Mary dear!
He gently pressed me to his breast, saying: "Oh, my Mary dear!
And there I tied that dreadful knot with that good-looking man.

It was scarce a week, when married I was, one Sunday afternoon, The day went by, the night came on, off went the honeymoon; My gent walked out-so did I-for to watch him was my plan, When soon a flashy girl I saw with my good-looking man.

At once a thought came in my head to entrap my faithless swain,
So quickly I did gain on him, and followed on his train;
It was then and there I heard him swear his love for her outran,
The closest ties for any maid-" Oh, what a nice young man!"

They kissed and toyed, and tales of love to her he then did tell,
Thinks I to myself, now is the time to serve you outright well;
He did not me at all espy, so to my home I ran,
And there sat down to anxiously wait for my good-looking man.

The clock was just striking ten, when my gentleman he walked in, I gently said: My William, dear, where hast thou so long been? I have been to church, my love, said he-Oh! this I could not

stand,

So the rolling pin I did let fly at my good-looking man.

I blacked his eyes, I tore his hair, in ribbons I tore his clothes,
I then took up the poker and laid it across his nose;
He just looked like a chimney-sweep, as out the door he ran,
And never a lady loved again with my good-looking man.

Now, you married folks, take my advice, high and low degree,
When a rakish husband you do get, pitch into him like me;
When I found out I was deceived, it was my only plan
To disfigure the handsome countenance of my good-looking man.

A CUP O' TAY.

OCH! prate about your wine,
Or poteen, mighty foine,
There's no such draught as mine,

From Ireland to Bombay!
And whether black or green,
Or divil a shade between,
There's nothing I have seen

Wid a gintale cup o' tay!
Whist! hear the kettle sing,
Like birds in early spring;
A sup for any king

Is the darlint in the thray.
Ould cronies dhroppin' in,
The fat ones and the thin,
Shure all their hearts I win

Wid a gintale cup o' tay!

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OH THE MARRIAGE.-Continued.

We meet in market and fair

We meet in the morning and nightHe sits on half of my chair,

And my people are wild with delight. Yet I long through the winter to skim, Though Owen longs more, I can see, When I will be married to him,

And he will be married to me.
Then, oh! the marriage-the marriage,
With love and mo buachail for me,
The ladies that ride in a carriage
Might envy my marriage to me.

HARPSTRINGS.

IRISH eyes of honest blue

With their ways of playful tease.
Heart and hand, so warm and true,
Praise, whose lips ne'er failed to please.

Irish smile, so free of guile.
Angels, tempting but to bless;
Like their bright and verdant isle-
Half a dream, and half caress.

Irish hearts-so bless'd with love
And such tenderness-to feel
All but saints in heaven above,
For such bliss would fondly kneel.
Irish welcome, sweet to share;
Strays the stranger to the Land
Lone, and lost in deep despair
He will grasp a greeting hand.

Irish wit, beyond compare
Lifts and leaves the bumper kind,
When its sparkle, rich and rare,
Fills the eye, and floods the mind.

Irish grief, so weird and wild,
When its soul of music breaks-
Then the giant is the child
As his sob, dread discord wakes.

Irish homes-ye gems of grace, Where the light of mirth and prayer, Fitful, gleam from each pure face, Round its parent fond and fair.

Irish curses, long and loud, Fright the tyrant on his throne, Blind the cruel and the proud, Blight the traitor all disown.

Irish hope, though gray with years,
Wears a lock almost divine.
Not in vain those priestly tears
God for thee hath set a sign.

Irish heroes fought and bled.
Shamed that they could give no more
For Erin-and so they fled
Still pleading to heaven's bright shore.

Irish faith, shines undefiled, Fervor-blessing every clime; Christ in dying on thee smiled, And its halo hallows time.

Irishmen, God bless you all, Stand together hand in hand; Hate's misrule must surely fall, And God bless old Ireland.

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He was not long in college when the Rev. Bishop Brown
Came to examine the collegians and viewed them all around.
He saw this clever young man, marked him above them all-
He was the first he did discourse when on them he did call.

He says: "Young man, where are you from? come, tell me your name."

"I am from the County Armagh, they call me Tom O'Neil; My mother she is a widow of a low degree;

She has done her best endeavors to make a priest of me."

"As Thomas O'Neil, then, is your name," the Bishop he did say;

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Go, study hard, both night and day;

I will have you soon ordained, to help your mother that did so well for thee;

I will send you home a credit, your country boys to see."

When this young man came home ordained, the neighbors were glad to hear,

And all that came to welcome him, came in twos and threes; Particularly his own dear friends to welcome him they ran, And you never saw such welcome as was for the widow's son.

There was a man lived in this place, he was as rich as a duke or knight;

He had an only daughter, she was a beauty bright.

She says unto her father: "I will go this young man to see,

For before he went to college, he was a schoolboy along with me."

She was brought into a parlor, where she drank ale and wine;
She says: "You are a clever young man, I would have you resign.
What made you be a clergyman? you know you are astray,
For a clergyman must rise by night, and travel hard by day.

"Come take some noble lady whose fortune will be grand; You will have men to wait on you, and be a gentleman. Come, take myself now, as I stand; you know my fortune is great;

I have ten thousand pounds a year, and, at a death, a whole estate."

He says: "My noble lady, do not explain your mind,
For if you offer ten times more, I would not resign;
For in this holy station I mean to lead my life;

So say no more, my dearest dear, I will never take a wife."

It was when he did deny her, this villain, she came home,
And in eight weeks after, her secret she let know;
She swore before the magistrate, that he did her beguile;
And for four long weeks before she went to him, she was with

child.

FATHER TOM O'NEIL.-Continued.

The morning of his trial, it grieved our heart full sore
To see his tender mother; it grieved her ten times more
To see her son, a clergyman, his age about twenty-three,
To be cut down, in his prime, by cruel perjury.

Now, Tom, what is the reason you don't marry this fair?
I think she is a companion for a duke, I declare;
What are you but a widow's son, that is both poor and mean?
You might think it a great honor such a lady to obtain.

Then Father Tom stood up and said: I have no witness here,
I call on the Almighty, and He will make the clear;

I never said I would marry her, or make her my wife,
For I never knew a female from a man in all my life.

Now, Tom, as you won't marry her, I will give you to understand,
Seven long years' transportation into Van Diemen's Land;
That is bad, but it might be worse. Then Father Tom did say:
Our Saviour suffered more than that, when He died on Calvary.

These words were hardly spoken, when a horse came as swift as wind,

And on him came a rider, saying: I was not here in time;
I call that trial over again, I am here that can reply;
She wants two fathers for her child-that's Father Tom and I.

I can tell the very moment, likewise the very spot,
She gave me ten thousand pounds the night the child was got.
She said she would give me a thousand more-if I would not let

on;

She wants to make a husband of the Right Reverend Father Tom.

Then Father Tom put on his hat, and then began to smile;
He says unto his mother: You see how God assists your child;
They looked on one another, when they found her perjury;
The villain was found guilty, and his reverence came home free.

WHY CAN'T PADDY BE A GENTLEMAN?

BEING told Pat couldn't be a gentleman, I've set myself the task,
That I to-night the reason why of you my friends would ask;
Hasn't Ireland got her colleges, that have for centuries stood,
To teach the people-and you know their teaching's mighty good;
Haven't Irishmen got heads and hearts-by dad, I know they've

So.

Then why can't Paddy be a gentleman? That's what I want to know.

Some look down on an Irishman, as if they thought that we
Could not but helpless dolts or fools e'er have a hope to be.
What matters where a man is born. I see in Erin's isle
There's lots of native gentlemen to greet you with a smile;
For there's other kind of gentlemen, besides a dandy beau.
Then why can't Paddy be a gentleman? That's what I want to
know.

You cannot give the reason why, I see it in your face;
That Paddy's not a gentleman, because you know he is.
He's always good to help a friend, although his means are scant;
And if he's fond of blarney, he hates deceit and cant;
His coat may be of common frieze, his heart won't freeze-oh, no!
Then why can't Paddy be a gentleman? That's what I want to
know.

If an Englishman's a gentleman, oh, worrah, then it's true;
As Pat is John Bull's brother, then he must be one, too.
Just read the Irish history, and in that same you'll find,
Great deeds of Irish gentlemen-St. Patrick's one, d'ye mind;
And don't forget this-ye who sneer at honest Paddy's worth-
That actions make a gentleman, no matter what the birth.

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"Tis long since we trod o'er the highlands together,
Two frolicsome bairns, gaily starting the deer;
When I called her my wee wife, my ain bonny wee wife,
And ne'er was sic joys as when Mary was there;
For she is a blossom I wear in my bosom,

A blossom I cherish and wear till I dee-
She's my ain bonny Mary, the star of Glengary,

She is health, she is wealth, and a gude wife to meShe's my ain bonny Mary, the star of Glengary,

She is health, she is wealth, and a gude wife to me.

MARY LE MORE.

As I strayed o'er the common on Cork's rugged border,
While the dewdrops of morn the sweet primrose arrayed;
I saw a poor female, whose mental disorder,

Her quick glancing eye and wild aspect betrayed.
On the sward she reclined, by the green fern surrounded,
At her side speckled daisies and wild flowers abounded;
To its inmost recesses, her heart had been wounded,
Her sighs were unceasing-'twas Mary Le More.

Her charms by the keen blasts of sorrow were faded,
Yet the soft tinge of beauty still played on her cheek;
Her tresses a wreath of primroses braided,

And strings of fresh daisies hung loose on her neck.

THE CROPPY BOY.

"GOOD men and true! in this house whe dwell,

To a stranger bouchal, I pray you tell
Is the Priest at home? or may he be seen?

I would speak a word with Father Green."

"The Priest's at home, boy, and may be

seen;

"Tis easy speaking with Father Green;
But you must wait till I go and see
If the holy father alone may be."

The youth has entered an empty hallWhat a lonely sound has his light footfall! And the gloomy chamber's chill and bare, With a vested Priest in a lonely chair.

The youth has knelt to tell his sins:
"Nomine Dei," the youth begins;
At "mea culpa" he beats his breast,
And in broken murmurs he speaks the rest.

"At the siege of Ross did my father fall,
And at Gorey my loving brothers all;
I alone am left of my name and race,
I will go to Wexford and take their place.

"I cursed three times since last Easter day

At mass-time once I went to play;

I passed the churchyard one day in haste, And forgot to pray for my mother's rest.

"I bear no hate against living thing; But I love my country above my King. Now, Father! bless me and let me go To die, if God has ordained it so."

The Priest said nought, but a rustling noise Made the youth look up in wild surprise; The robes were off, and in scarlet there Sat a yeoman captain with fiery glare.

With fiery glare and with fury hoarse, Instead of blessing he breathed a curse""Twas a good thought, boy, to come here and shrive,

For one short hour is your time to live.

"Upon yon river three tenders float,
The Priest's in one if he isn't shot-
We hold his house for our Lord the King,
And, amen say I, may all traitors swing!

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At Geneva Barrack that young man died, And at Passae they have his body laid. Good people who live in peace and joy, Breathe a prayer and a tear for the Croppy

Boy.

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