Next morning we met at Killhealy, The Shannon we crossed in a boat, There I lather'd him wid me shillely,

For he trod on the tail iv me coat.

Me fame spread through the nation,
Folks flock for to gaze upon me,
All cry out without hesitation,

66

Och, yer a fightin' man, Micky Ma
gee !"

I fought with the Finnagan faction,
We bate all the Murphys afloat,
If inclined for a row or a ruction,
Why, I'd tread on the tail iv me coat.

MICKEY THE CARMAN.

AIR.-" Low Backed Car."

I'M Mickey McCue, a boy so thrue,
I belong to the Imerald Isle,
And if ye will listen, your eyes will glis-
ten,

And your faces will bear a smile. There's not one so merry, from Cork to Derry,

The ladies, near and far,

Say its a thrate to take a sate
On my Irish jauntin' car.

Dhrivin' joultin'-gallopin'-
On my jauntin' car.
When I get a fare,

I dhrive away care,

As I dhrive my jauntin' car.

In Dublin city, so nate and pretty,
I used to take my stand;

On my car so nate 'twas quite a thrate,
To dhrive thro' the streets so grand.
The sights so fine in summer-time,
I'd dhrive you near or far-

--

The reins I grip, I crack my whip,
Off goes my jauntin' car.

Dhrivin', etc.

If a girl to your mind you want to find, Ould Ireland is the part—

The colleens fair, I do declare,

Are sure to stale your

heart.

With a glance so sly, and beaming eye, As bright as any star

Be the powers above, you're shure to love,

If you go on a jauntin' car.

Dhrivin', etc.

Poor Dublin now's in throuble,

There's very little fun;

i

I used to sit on my yoke, and crack a joke,
With any boy undher the sun.
But the Fenian boys my time employs,
For them I've rambled far,

And I left poor Erin's Isle, my boys,
And my horse and jauntin' car.

Dhrivin', etc.

LIMERICK IS BEAUTIFUL.

LIMERICK is beautiful,

As everybody knows,

The river Shannon, full of fish,
Through that city flows.
But 'tis not the river or the fish,
That weighs upon my mind,
Nor with the town of Limerick
I've any fault to find.

Ochone, ochone.

The girl I love is beautiful,

And soft-eyed as the fawn,

She lives in Garryowen,

And is called the Colleen Bawn.

And proudly as that river flows,
Through that famed city,

As proudly and without a word,
That colleen goes by me.
Ochone, ochone.

If I was made the Emperor

Of Russia to command,
Or Julius Cæsar, or the

Lord lieutenant of the land,
I'd give my plate and golden store,
I'd give up my army,

The horse, the rifles, and the foot,
And the Royal artillery.

Ochone, ochone.

I'd give the crown from off my head,
My people on their knees,
I'd give the fleet of sailing ships
Upon the briny seas;

A beggar I would go to bed,
And happy rise at dawn,
If by my side for my sweet bride
I had found my Colleen Bawn.
Ochone, ochone

FAR, FAR UPON THE SEA.

FAR, far

C. MACKAY.

upon the sea,

The good ship speeding free,

Upon the deck we gather young and old; And view the flapping sail

Swelling out before the gale,

Full and round, without a wrinkle or a fold.

Or watch the waves that glide
By the vessel's stately side,

Or the wild sea-birds that follow through the air;

Or gather in a ring,

And with cheerful voices sing. Oh! gaily goes the ship when the wind blows fair.

Far, far upon the sea,

With the sunshine on our lee, We talk of pleasant days when we were young

And remember, though we roam,
The sweet melodies of home--

The happy songs of childhood which we sung;

And though we quit her shore
To return to it no more,

Sound the glories that Britannia yet shall bear

That "Britons rule the waves,

And never shall be slaves."

Oh gaily goes the ship when the wind blows fair.

Far, far

upon the sea,

Whate'er our country be,

The thought of it shall cheer us as we go,