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YOU'VE heard of Julius Cæsar, and the great Napoleon, too,
And how the Cork militia beat the Turks at Waterloo;
But there's a page of glory that as yet remains uncut,
And that's the martial story of the Slattery Mounted Fut.
This gallant corps was organized by Slattery's eldest son,
A noble-minded poacher with a double-breasted gun;
And many a head was broken, aye, and many an eye was shut,
When practicing maneuvers in the Slattery Mounted Fut.

Well, first we reconnoitered 'round of O'Sullivan's shebeenIt used to be the "Shop House," but we called it "The Canteen;"

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And down from the mountains came the squadrons and platoons,

Four-and-twenty fighting men and a couple of stout gossoons;
And when we marched behind the drum to patriotic tunes,
We felt that fame would gild the name of Slattery's Light Dra-

But there we saw a notice which the bravest heart unnerved

All liquor must be settled for before the drink is served." So on we marched, but soon again each warrior's heart grew pale, For rising high in front of us we saw the county jail; And when the army faced about, 'twas just in time to find A couple of policemen had surrounded us behind.


Still down from the mountain came the squadrons and platoons,

Four-and-twenty fighting-men and a couple of stout gossoons; Says Slattery: "We must circumvent these bludgeoning boothoons,

Or else it sames they'll take the names of Slattery's Light Dragoons."

"We'll cross the ditch," our leader cried, "and take the foe in flank;"

But yells of consternation here arose from every rank, For posted high upon a tree we very plainly saw"Trespassers prosecuted, in accordance with the law." "We're foiled! exclaimed bold Slattery, "here ends our grand campaign, Tis merely throwing life away to face that mearin dhrain; I'm not as bowld as lions, but I'm braver nor a hen; And he that fights and runs away will live to fight again."


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Faith! we kept on walking, we kept on talking,
And the divil a one of us knew when to stop;
When she says,
are you?"
Says I, My love, I'm a clerk in a 'pothe-


cary's shop."

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COME, fill every glass to o'erflowing with wine or potheen, if you
Or if anything these are too glowing let water replace them-
but fill!
Oh! trust me, 'tis churlish and silly to ask how the bumper's
filled up,

If the tide in the heart be not chilly, what matters the tide in the

I wasn't minding, I wasn't thinking,

Oh! I wasn't thinking a bit at all;
When she landed me and knocked me kicking—
May the divil shoot the damsel with the old
plaid shawl.

Oh! ne'er may that heart's tide ascending in shame on our fore-
heads be seen,

While it nobly can ebb in defending our own glorious color, the

Young man, what profession | Here, under our host's gay dominion, while gathered this table

What varying shades of opinion in one happy circle are found;
What opposite creeds come together! how mingle North, South,
East and West!


ОCH! did ye ne'er hear of one Paddy Magee,
Whose mother was born at the town of Tralee:
Whose father the government sent off to sea,
For stealing the minister's whiskey?

At christening, wedding, wake or fair,
Och! Paddy, the divil, was sure to be there,
With his nate black eye and his impudent

For he was the boy to be frisky.

In vain did oppression endeavor to trample that Green under foot,
The fair stem was broken, but never could tyranny reach to its

Then come, and around it let's rally, and guard it henceforward
like men;

Oh! soon shall each mountain and valley grow bright with its
verdure again.
Meanwhile, fill each glass to the brim, boys, with water, with
wine or potheen,
And on each let the honest wish swim, boys, long flourish the
Gael and the Green!

a sight!

First foot in the dance, first stick in the fight:
For a friend he would die, the wrong he'd make

Young Johnny was my true love's name, as you shall plainly see,
My parents they employed him their laboring boy to be;
To harrow, reap, and sow the seed, and plow my father's land,

See him dressed for the fair, Gramachree, 'twas But soon I fell in love with him, as you may understand.

For he was the boy to be frisky.

He'd lead the girls out on the floor,
The divil such dancing was ne'er seen before;
Till one and all would fall on the floor,
While Paddy, the divil, was frisky.

Yet who minds the difference a feather? each strives to love Erin
the best.

Oh! soon through our beautiful island may union as blessed be
While floats o'er each valley and highland our own glorious color
-the Green.


As to the girls, och, murder alive!
Faith! they'd run after Paddy like bees in a

For his soft blarney'd tongue he would them
For he was the boy to be frisky.

So my blessing go wid you, Paddy Magee.
May ye's live to see Ireland great, glorious
and free,


As I roved out one morning, being in the blooming spring,
I heard a lovely maid complain, and grievously did sing-
Saying, Cruel was my parents, that did me so annoy,
And would not let me marry my bonny laboring boy.

First flower of the earth, first gem of the sea, And then won't we tipple the whisky!

My mother thought to have me wed unto some lord or peer,
I being the only heiress for ten thousand pounds a year;
I placed my heart on one true love, and he was my only joy,
This nation I will ramble with my bonny laboring boy.

His cheeks are like the roses red, his eyes as black as sloes,
He's mild in his behavior wherever that he goes;
He's manly, neat and handsome, his skin as white as snow,
And in spite of my parents' malice with my bonny laboring boy
I'll go.

I courted him for twelve long months, but little did I know
That my cruel parents would prove my overthrow:
They watched us close one evening whilst in a shady grove,
Pledging our vows together in the constant bands of love.

My father he stepped up to me and seized me by the hand,
And swore he'd send young Johnny unto some foreign land;
He locked me in my bedroom my comforts to annoy,
And kept me there to weep and mourn for my laboring boy.

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My mother came next morning and to me did say:
Your father has intended to appoint your wedding day;
I nobly made answer, with him I'd ne er comply,
But single would I still remain for my bonny laboring boy.

Says the daughter to the mother, your plan is all in
Lords, dukes and earls, their riches I disdain;
I'd rather live an humble life, my time I would employ
Increasing nature's prospects with my bonny laboring boy.

Fill your glasses to the brim, let the toast go merrily round, Here's health to every laboring boy that plows and works the ground;


Lift it out of the dust-let it wave as of yore, vain-When its chiefs with their clans stood around it and swore

That never-no-never! while God gave them

And when his work is over to his home he will go with joy-
Happy is the girl that gets a bonny laboring boy.

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UNROLL Erin's flag! fling its folds to the breeze,

Let it float o'er the land, let it flash o'er the


At least that's what he told us when returning o'er the foam,
To greet his anxious relatives, awaiting him at home.
So sing the song of triumph, and let all your bumpers flow,
In honor of our countryman, brave Andy McElroe.


And they had an arm and a sword for the strife,

That never-no-never! that banner should


As long as the heart of a Celt was its shield; While the hand of a Celt had a weapon to wield,

And his last drop of blood was unshed on the field.

Lift it up! wave it high!-'tis as bright as of old!

Not a stain on its green, not a spot on its gold, Tho' the woes and the wrongs of three hundred long years

Have drenched Erin's sunburst with blood and with tears!

Though the clouds of oppression enshroud it in gloom,

And 'round it the thunders of tyranny boom.
Look aloft-look aloft! lo! the clouds drift-
ing by,

There's a gleam through the gloom, there's a
light in the sky.
'Tis the sunburst resplendent-far, flashing on

Erin's dark night is waning; her day dawn is

The Mahdi had gone up a tree, a spy-glass in his eye,
To see his Paynim chivalry the ..orthern prowess try;
But soon he saw a form of dread, and cried in tones of woe,


Be jabers, let me out o' this-there's Andy McElroe! "
Then down he hurried from his tree, and straight away he ran,
To keep appointments, as he said, in distant Kordefan;
And fled those Arab soldiery like sand siroccos blow,
Pursued (with much profanity) by Andy McElroe.


What!-though for ages it droops in the dust,


At least that's what the letter said that came across the foam, Shall it droop thus forever?-no-no! God is
To Andy's anxious relatives, awaiting him at home.
The Government despatches had another tale-but no!
We won't believe a word against brave Andy McElroe.

Take it up-take it up, from the tyrant's foul

Let him tear the Green Flag-we will snatch its last shred.

Lift it up-lift it up! the old Banner of

The blood of its sons has but brightened its
What!-though the tyrant has trampled it

Are its folds not emblazoned with the deeds of

And beneath it we'll bleed as our forefathers


And we'll vow by the dust in the graves of our dead.

And we swear by the blood which the Briton
has shed-

And we'll vow by the wrecks which through
Erin he spread-

And we'll swear by the thousands who, fam-
ished, unfed,

Died down in the ditches-wild howling for bread.

And we'll vow by our heroes, whose spirits have fled,


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Lift up the Green Flag! oh! it wants to go home;

Full long has its lot been to wander and roam;
It has followed the fate of its sons o'er the
But its folds, like their hopes, are not faded

nor furled;
Like a weary-winged bird, to the east and the

It has flitted and fled-but it never shall rest, Till pluming it pinions, it sweeps o'er the main,

And speeds to the shores of its old home again, Where its fetterless folds, o'er each mountain and plain,

Shall wave with a glory that never shall wane. Take it up-take it up! bear it back from afar

That banner must blaze 'mid the lightnings


Oн, rise up, Willy Reilly, and come along with me,
I mean for to go with you and leave this countrie,
To leave my father's dwelling-house, his houses and free land—”
And away goes Willy Reilly and his dear Colleen Bawn.
They go by hills and mountains, and by yon lonsome plain,
Through shady groves and valleys, all dangers to refrain;
But her father followed after with a well armed band,
And taken was poor Reilly and his dear Colleen Bawn.
It's home then she was taken and in her closet bound,


Poor Reilly all in Sligo jail lay on the stony ground,
Till at the bar of justice before the judge he'd stand,
For nothing but the stealing of his dear Colleen Bawn.
"Now in the cold, cold iron, my hands and feet are bound,
I'm handcuffed like a murderer, and tied unto the ground;
But all the toil and slavery I'm willing for to stand,
Still hoping to be succored by my dear Colleen Bawn."
The jailer's son to Reilly goes, and thus to him did say:
Oh, get up, Willy Reilly, you must appear this day,
For great Squire Foillard's anger you never can withstand,
I'm afear'd you'll suffer sorely for your dear Colleen Bawn.”
Now Willy's dressed from top to toe all in a suit of green,
His hair hangs o'er his shoulders most glorious to be seen;
He's tall and straight, and comely, as any could be found,
He's fit for Foillard's daughter was she the heiress to a crown.
"This is the news, young Reilly, last night that I did hear,
The lady's oath will hang you, or else will set you clear."
If that be so," says Reilly, "her pleasure I will stand,
Still hoping to be succored by my dear Colleen Bawn.”
The judge he said: "This lady being in her tender youth,
If Reilly has deluded her she will declare the truth."
Then like a moving beauty bright before him she did stand-
"You're welcome there, my heart's delight and dear Colleen


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of war;

Lay your hands on its folds, lift your gaze to
the sky
And swear that you'll bear it triumphant or

And shout to the clans scattered far o'er the

To join in the march to the land of their birth; And wherever the exiles, 'neath Heaven's broad dome,

Have been fated to suffer, to sorrow and roam, They'll bound to the sea, and away o'er the foam,

They'll sail to the music of "Home, Sweet




"Oh, gentlemen," Squire Foillard said, "with pity look on me,
This villain came amongst us to disgrace our family;
| And by his base contrivances this villainy was planned,
If I don't get satisfaction I'll quit this Irish land."
The lady with a tear began, and thus replied she:


The fault is none of Reilly's, the blame lies all on me,

I forced him for to leave his place and come along with me,
I loved him out of measure, which wrought our destiny."
Out spoke the noble Fox, at the table he stood by,
"Oh, gentlemen, consider on this extremity;
To hang a man for love is a murder, you may see,
So spare the life of Reilly, let him leave this countrie.”
"Good, my lord, he stole from her her diamonds and her rings,
Gold watch and silver buckles, and many precious things.
Which cost me in bright guineas more than five hundred pounds-
I'll have the life of Reilly should I lose ten thousand pounds.”
"Good, my lord, I gave them him as tokens of true love,
And when we are a-parting I will them all remove,


THOUGH old Erin's oppressed, 'tis a beautiful
'Tis the pride of my heart and will be till
I die;

It was there I last looked on your blushing
young face,
And got a sweet smile from your bonnie
black eye.

When you told me farewell," how my bosom

did swell

With emotions of sorrow when crossing the And I never could part with the love of the heart


Which I brought over with me for Widow


of me?

Arrah! Widow McGee, are you thinking
If you are, write a letter from over the
And tell me you'll marry me, Widow

If you have got them, Reilly, pray, send them home to me."
"I will, my loving lady, with many thanks to thee."
"There is a ring among them I allow yourself to wear,
With thirty locket diamonds well set in silver fair,
And as a true-love token wear it on your right hand,
That you'll think on my poor broken heart when you're in a
foreign land.”

Then out spoke noble Fox: "You may let the prisoner go,
The lady's oath has cleared him, as the jury all may know;
She has released her own true love, she has renewed his name,
May her honor bright gain high estate, and her offspring rise to


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