m When summer has gone, and winter's chill hours Have rifled the greenwood and blighted the flowers Tho' ice-pound the brook, and snow clad the dale, The proudest might envy our home in the vale. MARY DRAPER. AIR.-Nancy Dawson. DON'T talk to me of London dames, Her cheeks were red,her eyes were blue, She'd ride a wall, she'd drive a team, "Rousseau' For nothing could escape her: And at the spring assizes ball, And Harry Deane would caper; The parson, priest, sub-sheriff too, Were all her slaves, and so would you, you had only but one view If Of such a face and shape, or Her pretty ankles-but, ohone, Such girls were found-and now they're gone; So here's to Mary Draper. BAD LUCK TO THIS MARCHING. AIR.-Paddy O'Carrol BAD luck to this marching, Pipeclaying and starching; How neat one must be to be killed by the French! I'm sick of parading, Through wet and cowld wading, Or standing all night to be shot in the trench. To the tune o' a fife, They dispose of your life, You surrender your soul to some illigant lilt, Now I like Garryowen, When I hear it at home, But it's not half so sweet when you're going to be kilt. Then though up late and early, The devil a farthing we've ever to spare; They say some disaster, Befel the paymaster; On my conscience, I think that the money's not there. And, just think, what a blunder; While the people invite us to rob them, 'tis clear; Though there isn't a village, But cries, "Come and pillage." Yet we leave all the mutton behind for Mounseer. Like a sailor that's nigh land, Where even the kisses we steal if we please; Where it is no disgrace, If you don't wash your face, And you've nothing to do but stand at your ease. With no sergeant t' abuse us, We fight to amuse us, Sure it's better beat Christian than kick a baboon; How I'd dance like a fairy, To see ould Dunleary, And think twice ere I'd leave it to be a dragoon. PADDY'S TRIP FROM DUBLIN. 'TWAS business required I'd from Dub. lin be straying, I bargained the captain to sail pretty quick, But just at the moment the anchor was weighing, A spalpeen, he wanted to play me a trick. Says he, Paddy, go down stairs and fetch me some beer now; Says I, by my shoul you're monstratiously kind; Then you'll sail away, and I'll look mighty queer now, When I come up to see myself all left behind. With my tal de ral lal, &c. A storm met the ship and did so dodge her, Says the Captain, We'll sink, or be all cast away; Thinks I, never mind, 'cause I'm only a lodger, And my life is insured, so the office must pay. |