To the fiddler, says Dermot M'Figg, If you'll please to play While you humour the bow, While he's dancing a tight Irish jig. The meal man he looked very shy, With her may the devil fly high In the sky, M For I'm murder'd and don't know for why Oh! says Dermot, and he in the dance, Whilst a step towards his foe did advance, By the Father of men, Say but that word again, And I'll soon knock you back in a trance To your dance, For with me you'd have but a small chance. But says Katty, the darlint, says she, It's myself that will show, That he can't be your foe, Though he fought for his cousin, that's me, Says she, For, sure, Billy's related to me. For my own cousin-jarmin, Anne Wild, Sure he married Bess Dunn, A child, As ever at mother's breast smiled. And may be you don't know Jane Brown, Who served goats' whey in sweet Dundrum town, 'Twas her uncle's half-brother That married my mother, And bought me this new yellow gown, To go down, Where the marriage was held in Milltown. Oh then how the girls did look, Tipt Dermot a sign, Faith he soon popped her into a nook Near the brook And there he fell kissing the cook. For a while she began for to cry, When the ladies came round, Their fingers they clapped to their eyes, So sly We're courting, said she, don't be shy. By the powers! then says Dermot, 'tis plain, Like the son of that rapscallion Cain, My best friend I have kilt, And the devil a harm did I mean, That's plain, But by me he'll be ne'er kilt again. Then the meal man forgave him the blow, Asked them both to the play, But Katty, being bashful, said no, No, no, Yet he treated them all to the show. THE DARLIN' OULD STICK. AIR-Teddy O'Toole. My name is bold Morgan M'Carthy, from Trim, My relations all died, except one brother Jim, He's gone a sojering out to Cow bull (Cabool) I dare say he's laid low with a knick in the skull; But let him be dead or be living A prayer for his corpse I'll be giving To send him soon home or to heaven, If that stick had a tongue, it could tell you some tales, How it battered the countenances of the O'Neills, It made bits of skulls fly about in the air, And it's been the promoter of fun at each > fair, For I swear by tl toe-nail of Moses! It has often broke bridges of noses, Of the faction that dare to oppose usIt's the darlin' kippeen of a stick. The last time I used it, 'twas at Patrick's day, Larry Fegan and I got into a shilley We went on a spree to the fair at Athboy, Where I danced, and when done, I kissed Kate M'Evoy. Then her sweetheart went out for his cousin And by Jabers! he brought in a dozen; 'War,' was the word, when the faction came in, And to pummice us well, they peeled cff in their skin; Like a Hercules there I stood for the attack, And the first that came up, I sent down on his back; Then I shoved out the eye of Pat Clancy, I smathered her sweetheart until he was black, She then tipped me the wink—we were off in a crack We went to a house t'other end of the town, And we cheered up our spirits, by letting some down. When I got her snug into a corner, And the whiskey beginning to warm her She told me her sweetheart was an informer Oh, 'twas then I said prayers for my stick. We got whiskificated to such a degree, For support my poor Kate had to lean against me; I promised to see her safe to her abode, By the tarnal we fell clean in the mud, on the road; We were roused by the magistrate's order, Before we could get a toe further – |