m LARRY O'LASH'EM. I'M Larry O'Lash'em, was born at Killarney, Myself drove a noddy in Dublin sweet town, And got fares enough, 'cause I tipt the folks blarney, But myself was knocked up, 'cause So to London I drove to avoid the disaster, There to drive hackney-coaches engaged for the pelf; And honestly, out of my fares, paid my master Two-thirds, and kept only one-half for myself. With tal de ral, my &c. I took up a buck, and because 'twas the fashion, He mounted the box and bade me get inside; And because I refused, he fell into a passion, So thinks I, while I'm walking, I may as well ride I amused myself laughing to see how the hinder Wheels after the fore ones most furiously paid, Till a wheel broke its leg, spilt the coach out of the window; While my head and the pavement at nut-cracking played. I next drove a couple one morn to get married, The lady was sixty, the gemman a score; For sake of her money the courtship he carried, But repenting, deserted her at the church door. She swounded away-so a pity 'twas thinking, Allured by the rhino, myself intercedes And got married soon after she died of hard drinking, And left me a widow forlorn in my weeds. Having fingered the cash that was due by my marriage, I set up for myself, now a bachelor made; I purchased a fine bran new secondhand carriage, Became my own Jarvey, and drive a fine trade. And my coach and my horses, in case of invasion, I'll send to the troops, and I'll join in the strife; And if I am kilt in defence of the nation, 'Twill make me a hero the rest of my life. JOHN OF CASTLETON. THE mighty John, of Castleton, With whiskey prim'd, his heart inclin ̊d, Let time pass as it may, Come fill your cups to overflowing And drink, drink and be gay, Now John, alas, to his sweet lass, One day inspir'd by love's alluring power; He vow'd and swore he'd ne'er drink whiskey more, For her he'd renounce it from that hour. Next day, 'tis said, the pair were wed But mark the cunning fellow, When morning came, tho' much to blame, He got confounded mellow. His Jenny cried, but he replied, My oath I've kept, don't fear love, Of whiskey I drank none; don't cry, 'Twas brandy, ale, and beer, love A jolly boy will life enjoy, Like Bacchus live in story; Should whiskey fail, or good old als Adieu to love and glory. Then drink with exultation, The army and nation. THE SWEET MOUNTAINEER So shall his aim be still unerring, HEIGH FOR A PETTICOAT OCH! a petticoat, honey, 's an Irish man's joy, Go where he will his time merrily passes; Search the world over, sure Paddy's the boy For banging the men, and for kissing the lasses. And if you but get a red coat to your back, In Russia, in Prussia, in France or in Flanders, All the pretty ma'amselles have a mighty neat knack Of cocking their chins at both men and commanders. |