One evening in June, as he was going home, After the fair of Rathnagan, What should he see from the branch of a tree, But the corpse of a Hessian there hanging. Says Denny, "those rogues have boots, I've brogues;" On the boots then he laid such a griper, He pulled with such might, and the boots were so tight, That legs and boots came away with the piper. Then Denny did run, for fear of being hung, Till he came to Tim Kennedy's cabin : Says Tim from within, "I can't let you in, You'll be shot if you're caught there a rapping." He went to the shed, where the cow was in bed, With a wisp he began for to wipe her; They lay down together on a seven-foot feather; And the cow fell a hugging the piper. Then Denny did yawn, as the day it did dawn, And he streel'd off the boots of th Hessian; The legs-by the law, he left on the straw And he gave them leg-bail for his mission. When the breakfast was done, Tim sent out his son, To make Denny jump up like a lamplighter; When the legs there he saw, he roar'd like a jackdaw, "Oh, daddy! the cow's ate the piper!" "Musha bad luck on the beast-she'd a musical taste, For to eat such a beautiful chanter; Arrah! Patrick avic, take a lump of a stick, Drive her off to Glenhealy-we'll cant her." Mrs. Kennedy bawl'd, and the neighbors were call'd, They began for to humbug and gibe her; To the churchyard Tim walked, with the legs in a box, And the cow will be hung for the piper. The cow she was drove a mile or two off, To the fair at the side of Glenhealy, And there she was sold for four guineas in gold, To the clerk of the parish, Tim Daly. They went to a tent, the luck-penny was spent, The clerk being a jolly old swiper. Who d'ye think was there, playing the "Rakes of Kildare," But poor Denny Byrne, the piper ! Then Tim gave a bolt, like a half-drunken colt, At the piper he gazed like a gommack, He said, "By the powers! I thought these eight hours You were playing in driman dhu's stomach!" Then Denny observed how the Hessian was served, And they all wish'd Nick's cure to the griper ; For grandeur they met, their whistles MARY OF ARGYLE. CHARLES JEFFERYS. I HAVE heard the mavis singing Though thy voice may lose its sweetness, I have watch'd thy heart, dear Mary, WHAT ARE THE WILD WAVES SAYING? "I want to know what it says, the sea-what is it that it keeps on saying ?"-Paul, in "Dombey and Son." J. E. CARPENTER. "WHAT are the wild waves saying, I hear but their low, lone song? There it sounds wild and free ; But at night, when 'tis dark and lonely, In dreams it is still with me." "Brother! I hear no singing: Dashing against the shore, some bleaker No, no it is something greater |