WE'LL MEET THE FRENCH IN THE MORNING. AIR.-Garyone. Now that we've pledged each eye of blue, And every maiden fair and true, We'll all be there, To meet the French in the morning May his bright laurels never fade, To meet the French in the morning. And when with years and honours crowned, You sit some homeward hearth around, www And hear no more the stirring sound, To meet the French in the morning. THE IRISH HUSSAR. In times not very old, There lived a baron bold, Who kept a lovely daughter under bolt and bar. He was naturally mild, Till he found his only child His castle wall was steep, And the foss both wide and deep, And the lady's tower was lofty, as most ladies' towers are: But what foss or rampart stout, Or ever put to rout A true Irish hussar? On one wild and stormy night, In that tower shone a light— 'Twas Love's own beacon bright, high o'er the elemental war. Each sentry sought his box Trusting all to wall and locks, Little drameing what a fox Was a Irish hussar. To the turret light, so ture A pebble lightly flew, When the wakeful maiden knew that her lover was not far: Back o'er the rampart wall She flung a silken ball, Knowing well that it must fall Near her Irish hussar. Soon, according to her hope, Whilst she heard a voice below Though the turret rose so high, When the maiden gave a sigh, to see the ground so far: "Now my love, come down with me!" "But," says she, "love, where's your key? Hanging by my side," cries he, This light laugh soothed her fears: Soon she dried her maiden tears, Knowing well that a faint heart would now her fortune mar. Sá Soon beneath that tower they stood, With an Irish hussar. "Now mount, dear girl, with me." "O, la! sweet love," cries she, I looked, at least, to see a coach or jaunting car." "Up! ma coleen gra, " he cried, "Your sweet self must learn to ride, If you look to be the bride Of an Irish hussar " The maiden made no more ado, But en croupe full lightly flew "And now, good steed, be true in love as you have been in war: Your soft arms round me throw, Like an Irish hussar." A SWEET IRISH GIRL IS THE If they talk about ladies, I'll tell them the plan Of myself to be sure I'm a nate Irishman, There is neither sultana nor foreign ma'mselle That has charms to please me, or can coax me so well As the sweet Irish girl, so charming to see: Och! a tight Irish girl is the darling for me. And sing fillilloo, fire away, frisky she'll be, |