Class _^6L.^^^ 
 
 Book .Ff^s'^LZ, 
 
 CoipghtN"_'J^li__ 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 American and Irish 
 
 National and International 
 
 Patriotic, Political 
 
 Economic and Miscellaneous 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWARD FITZWILLIAM 
 
 THE J. K. WATERS CO., 
 
 14-20 Beach Street 
 
 Boston 
 

 LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
 Two CoDies Racetvcd 
 
 MAR 8 J906 
 
 Copyrieht Entry 
 
 CLASS Cu XXc. No. 
 
 ' COPY B. / 
 
 Copyrighted, 1906, by 
 EDWARD FITZWILLIAM 
 
Vs"^ 
 
 AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 Unlike what in secret mysteriously delves, 
 
 These poems need no preface they speak for themselves. 
 
 In the construction of the songs and poems contained 
 in this little volume, I have endeavored to make my 
 meaning clear and unequivocal and I flatter myself I 
 have succeeded in so doing. 
 
 Those poems in part first treat on American national 
 affairs, those in part- second on Irish affairs, and under 
 the head — Miscellaneous — on various topics of passing, 
 as well as permanent public interest. 
 
 Without further comment I submit them to my friends, 
 neighbors and the great common people, hoping that 
 they may be received in the spirit in which they were 
 written by the author 
 
 EDWARD FITZWILLIAM. 
 
PUBLISHERS PREFACE. 
 
 The poems and songs contained in this volume, will, 
 We are convinced, meet conditions now and for the 
 last decade growing more and more serious every day. 
 
 The vast aggregations of capital known as trusts, the 
 get rich quick craze, the growing disregard for the 
 Declaration of Independence and for constitutional 
 limitations, have been sprung on the people with alarm- 
 ing frequency and unblushing audacity. All of these 
 things and many others have been exposed and answered 
 more concisely and yet more fully in these poems, we 
 think, than they have been heretofore. We commend 
 this volume to our young men, they will find food for 
 thought in it as well as readings, recitals, and songs, 
 both instructive and entertaining. 
 
 Mr. Fitzwilliam's muse which always seems to soar 
 along the cleanest lines of thought has succeeded in 
 producing poems and songs that might be introduced 
 with profit in our public schools, where, of late years, 
 old-time high public spirit and old-fashioned yankee 
 patriotism seem to be sadly, if not entirely, neglected. 
 
PART ONE 
 
 VOLUME I 
 
 Volume II will be Published about May i, 1906 
 
ADRIFT 
 
 WE have drifted from the landmarks that through 
 many a troublous year 
 
 Have pointed out the safest course our Ship of State 
 to steer ; 
 
 Old charts have been discarded by our Captain and 
 his Crew, 
 
 A vast wide imperial prospect having opened to their 
 
 view. 
 Yielding to the low temptation held out by the 
 
 '* Motherland," 
 Working out the plot for empire in a secret conclave 
 
 planned ; 
 Strong, sound, deep-rooted principles are rudely cast 
 
 aside, 
 While Captain, pilot, ship and crew, drift on the 
 
 imperial tide. 
 
 Drifting ? Yes we are drifting, read George Wash- 
 ington's farewell, 
 
 In which he wisely cautioned against what of late 
 befell ; 
 
 Through much bungling interference in the affairs 
 of foreign lands. 
 
 Our Ship of State has drifted among treacherous 
 foreign strands ; 
 
 That Pro-British " understanding " has borne bitter 
 deadly fruit. 
 
 Two murderous plundering wars have sprung from 
 that unhallowed root ; 
 
4 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Were our rulers disintangled as they ever were before, 
 They'd have helped the Filipinos and dared England 
 touch the Boer. 
 
 This would have been high statesmanship, consistent, 
 
 upright, grand, 
 It would have shown the world, the true greatness of 
 
 this land, 
 'Twould have saved the two Republics of South 
 
 Africa and then. 
 They could have formed a new one of brave Filipino 
 
 men ; 
 But, lust of power and profit filled our rulers longing 
 
 eyes, 
 They and their friends were dazzled by the rich 
 
 Imperial prize, 
 And so, the golden chance to free these far-off 
 
 foreign lands. 
 And make them allies loyally slipped through their 
 
 palsied hands. 
 
 Drifting > Well no shifting, would perhaps best 
 designate 
 
 The weak vacillating policy adopted here of late. 
 
 Those who used to prate the loudest of our match- 
 less Constitution, 
 
 Are endeavoring outside it to enforce the destitution 
 
 Of eight million trusting people, some eight thousand 
 miles away, 
 
 Who had been our faithful allies until Spain was 
 brought to bay. 
 
 To satisfy the Coterie, "who stand behind the 
 throne," 
 
 Who'd parcel out the Phillipines and hold them as 
 their own. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 6 
 
 Great ** Mercantile advantages," — " New Markets " 
 
 — and so forth, 
 And "An open door in China," of but very doubtful 
 
 worth : 
 Then, alliance with Great Britain or the Anglo-Saxon 
 
 race, 
 (According to Joe Chamberlain) this whole world 
 
 wide to face.* 
 Here we see the secret policy divulged by slow 
 
 degrees. 
 In such a halting way it shows the plotters ill at ease. 
 For this, we're asked to sacrifice the people's right 
 
 to rule, 
 And he who dares object is dubbed a traitor or a fool. 
 
 Abuse of delegated power in every age and clime, 
 Has always been the starting point in every public 
 
 crime 
 To carry out their programme our late rulers went 
 
 so far, 
 To get bogus Sovereignty they bought out a bloody 
 
 war. 
 So, the power we delegated has been wrested from 
 
 our hands. 
 And our President is Emperor in buncoed foreign 
 
 lands. 
 Where all the inhumanity of England and of Spain, 
 With yankee ingenuity, is reproduced again. 
 
 *It will be remembered that the change in policy in favor of 
 holding on to the Phillipines occurred immediately after Joe 
 Chamberlain's visit to this country, in which he claimed that the 
 re-united Saxon race of England and America, would " rule the 
 world for peace," etc. Immediately afterwards the two most inex- 
 cusable and unnecessary wars, of all time, were waged against the 
 virtuous God-fearing Boers, by England, and against our would-be 
 allies and friends the Filipinos by the Armies and Navy of Uncle 
 Sam ; to open new markets for the trusts, and with England to 
 rule (and rob) the world ! 
 
6 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Drifting ? Yes we are drifting, five and twenty years 
 
 ago, 
 Had Spain offered us the Phillipines without a word 
 
 or blow, 
 Not a hundred in their senses could be found in this 
 
 broad land. 
 To thank her for the gift, or to accept them from her 
 
 hand. 
 But since then, the vast resources of the country 
 
 have been wrought. 
 By new, wonderful inventions — the vast profits have 
 
 been caught. 
 In legislative channels, forming reservoirs of wealth. 
 And now, they want large armies to safeguard this 
 
 legal stealth. 
 
 Republican simplicity is flying or has fled 
 And upstart aristocracy is coming in its stead ; 
 And although we are surely drifting back towards 
 monarchy again. 
 
 What is everybody's business, gives scarce anybody 
 pain. 
 
 Behold how New rich Moneybags bestows his 
 
 daughter's hand 
 On some bankrupt titled profligate, in some Mon- 
 
 archial land ; 
 Would not he who for a title sends his daughter thus 
 
 to roam. 
 Give up millions for a title, could he buy one here at 
 
 home ."* 
 
 In recent legislation, laws are framed with such 
 
 deceit. 
 Almost every new invention against laborers compete. 
 They should shorten hours of labor, every patent is, 
 
 instead, 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 7 
 
 Used to " cut " the roll of laborers who toil for daily 
 bread. 
 
 Thus, the channels are growing wider far, and deeper 
 every day, 
 
 Into which the people's wealth is flowing freely — 
 
 filched away, 
 Thus, the rich are growing richer and the poor more 
 
 numerous still, 
 
 Then we throw the blame upon the Lord by saying 
 " its God's will." 
 
 I worked hard for fair protection, I talked for it 
 night and day ; 
 
 With it was promised shorter hours without the loss 
 of pay. 
 
 For, modern machinery, when run full time and 
 speed, 
 
 Will turn out more goods, than people overworked 
 can need. 
 
 But, our rulers changed their principles and seek in 
 foreign lands, 
 
 New markets for the surplus that is growing on their 
 hands ; 
 
 So the trusts get full protection, we poor workers 
 cold neglect. 
 
 We are being buncoed by our rulers, such protection 
 don't protect. 
 
 To obtain these foreign markets we must be "a 
 world power," 
 
 With a great big standing army, and a navy vast to 
 
 shower 
 Hot shot and shell wherever our cheap goods dare be 
 
 refused. 
 Or where, perhaps, some missionaries think they are 
 
 being abused. 
 
d SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 These preach conflicting religions from one most 
 
 sacred book, 
 Yet, if bewildered heathens cast a disapproving look, 
 They're up in indignation and call loudly out for aid 
 To shoot in Christianity, where they a failure made. 
 
 Oh! sweet " consistency thou art a jewel" shining 
 
 bright ; 
 When shall we firmly travel in thy even steady light, 
 When shall we put in practice that rule from God on 
 
 high, 
 " Do you unto your brethren as ye would be done by." 
 We then while closing up our doors against all 
 
 foreign lands, 
 Will not blow open theirs and have their blood upon 
 
 our hands, 
 Instead, we'll hold aloft the torch of liberty once 
 
 more, 
 A beacon light to all oppressed this whole wide world 
 
 o'er. 
 
 Oh 1 Lord who rules the universe to Thee we humbly 
 
 pray, 
 That Thou wilt guide and guard our land as Thou 
 
 hast done alway ; 
 In every crisis here-to-fore Thou hast sent a master 
 
 hand. 
 To shape the course and safely guide, this. Thy most 
 
 favored land. 
 Thou hast given us the greatest gifts ever deigned to 
 
 man below. 
 Though we have sinned forgive us Lord ! Thy mer- 
 cies still bestow ! 
 We thank and praise Thee for the gifts to us so 
 
 freely given. 
 And pray, " Thy will be done on earth as it is done 
 
 in Heaven'' 
 
HOW MUCH IS THERE IN IT 
 FOR ME? 
 
 OF late years, since some try their pockets to fill — 
 Disregarding the general good ; 
 There is an expression applied with much skill, 
 
 That in former times few understood. 
 Honest measures and men 
 
 Were alone thought of then ; 
 But on all hands what now do we see ? 
 
 In the scramble for pelf. 
 Every man asks himself : 
 
 " How much is there in it for me ? " 
 
 You'll hear loud declaiming 'gainst trusts and com- 
 bines, 
 
 By candidates seeking for aid. 
 They tell those who toil in the shops and the mines, 
 
 That in ruins all trusts should be laid. 
 But when once on the hill. 
 
 And some trust wants a bill ; 
 How their minds changed no mortal can see, 
 
 But they say to the trust : 
 " Come right down with the dust," 
 
 Or, "How much is there in it for me > " 
 
 In the late war with Spain "for humanity's sake," 
 The people rose with one accord. 
 
10 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 To the service of country our young men did take, 
 
 As if they were serving the Lord. 
 But all this has been changed : 
 
 Many have been estranged, 
 For the most unsuspecting can see, 
 
 A low self-seeking gang 
 Acting out the vile slang 
 
 Of " How much is there in it for me ? " 
 
 The wise and great men who made this a free land 
 
 At the price of their blood and their toil. 
 Left the world a model of freedom most grand, 
 
 On foundations deep in the soil. 
 But these great men have gone, 
 
 Or, if still there is one ; 
 Pushed aside rough and rudely is he 
 
 By the self-seeking crowd. 
 
 Coarsely, vulgarly loud. 
 
 Who ask : '' What is there in it for me ? *' 
 
 One year after another, again and again, 
 
 By such methods and men we are fooled ; 
 And until things are run on a loftier plane, 
 
 We will be by self-seeking men ruled. 
 When we chose honest men — 
 
 And not until then — 
 This glorious land of the free 
 
 Will prosper always — 
 None the question need raise : 
 
 ** How much is there in it fof me ? " 
 
THE TRUSTS 
 
 DID the Lord create this Earth 
 For the Trusts ? 
 Did He mean all that had worth 
 
 For the Trusts ? 
 Did He make some men for slaves 
 To dig down in pits and caves 
 To enrich the scheming knaves 
 Of the Trusts ? 
 
 Did He make the coal and oil 
 
 For the Trusts ? 
 All the products of the soil 
 
 For the Trusts ? 
 All the butter, eggs and meat 
 That the people used to eat 
 While yet wholesome fresh and sweet 
 
 For the Trusts ? 
 
 Did he order tariffs framed 
 
 For the Trusts ? 
 True protection foully shamed 
 
 For the Trusts ? 
 Every Trust built up its own 
 As if piling stone on stone — 
 All home competion gone 
 
 For the Trusts ? 
 
12 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Did He order all improvements 
 
 For the Trusts ? 
 Did He Ban all labor movements 
 
 For the Trusts ? 
 Every patented invention 
 Labor saving of intention 
 Made but laborers' prevention 
 
 For the Trusts ? 
 
 Did He give electric science 
 
 For the Trusts ? 
 Harnessed up in mute compliance 
 
 To the Trusts ? 
 Electricity and steam 
 Toil to lighten or redeem 
 Are they made a mocking dream 
 
 For the Trusts ? 
 
 Did He order all His laws 
 
 For the Trusts ? 
 Did He teach the Christian cause 
 
 For the Trusts ? 
 Did He mean that once a week 
 All should go to church and seek, 
 Grace to make us calm and meek 
 
 To the Trusts ? 
 
 Did He order vast expansions 
 
 For the Trusts ? 
 Proud expensive lordly mansions 
 
 For the Trusts ? 
 While the men that pick and shovel 
 At the Trust Lord's feet must grovel 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 18 
 
 And herd, in a filthy hovel 
 For the Trusts. 
 
 Did He frame our legislatures 
 
 For the Trusts ? 
 The low game of lobby traders 
 
 For the Trusts ? 
 From our President clear down 
 To Selectmen of the town 
 Did He order favors shown 
 
 To the Trusts ? 
 
 With good reason we think hard 
 
 Of the Trusts, 
 Yet we mustn't blame the Lord, 
 
 For the Trusts, 
 We must blame those legislators. 
 Venal, purchasable creatures. 
 Who sold out their manly natures 
 
 To the Trusts. 
 
 They were sent there by the people. 
 
 Not the Trusts, 
 But proved pliant, plastic, feeble, 
 
 To the Trusts, 
 This great government of laws. 
 That erst-while met just applause, 
 They have honey-combed with flaws, 
 
 For the Trusts ! 
 
 No ! the Lord meant not all these 
 For the Trusts, 
 
14 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Him, the actions do not please 
 
 Of the Trusts, 
 When the multitude awake 
 All these things they'll calmly take 
 For God and His people's sake, 
 
 From the Trusts 1 
 
IMPERIALIST TRAMPLE ON THE 
 CONSTITUTION 
 
 " The Constitution has made no provision for holding foreigh 
 territory, still less for incorporating foreign nations into our 
 Union." 
 
 Thomas Jefferson. 
 
 THOMAS JEFFERSON who ought 
 To know, the Constitution, 
 Says it contains no word or thought, 
 
 Line, clause or resolution. 
 For grabbing for-off foreign lands, 
 
 Whatever the temptation, 
 Or girding round with Union bands, 
 A conquered foreign nation. 
 
 Yet every day we hear it said. 
 
 By modern, mushroom statesmen, 
 Who by intrigue got at the head 
 
 And pose themselves as great-men. 
 That any man who does not stand 
 
 " Behind the Administration," 
 Wliile plundering a foreign land, 
 
 Deserves but reprobation. 
 
 We always thought, it was our boast. 
 From platform, tower and steeple, 
 
 We told the world from coast to coast, 
 We were self-gOAcrning people. 
 
16 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 But now our rulers brush aside 
 
 This popular delusion 
 And with assumed offended pride, 
 
 They scoff at our intrusion. 
 
 Some sixty thousand troops or more 
 
 Are in a foreign nation, 
 Forcing, like England on the Boer, 
 
 '' Humane Assimilation," 
 * " Each stroke is struck for liberty, 
 
 Each shot is fired for freedom. 
 Blows fall with no severity. 
 
 Except on those who need them." 
 
 Some twenty thousand lives are spent 
 
 Between the dead and dying, 
 Of our young men who there were sent ; 
 
 Yet all we hear is lying. 
 They tell us that the war is o*er, 
 
 If so, our side has blundered. 
 Our gun-boats shell them from the shore, 
 
 Our boys shoot many a hundred. 
 
 The day of reckoning is at hand, 
 When party lines must sever. 
 
 If freeman cannot rule this land. 
 Then freedom dies forever. 
 
 If we abjectly stand and see 
 Our delighted power 
 
 •"No blow has been struck but for liberty and humanity, and 
 none will be." 
 
 McKinley in his speech of acceptance 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 17 
 
 Abused, we are no longer free ; 
 
 We are subjects from that hour. 
 
 We are at the parting of the ways, 
 
 A Crisis is approaching. 
 The cry of treason while they raise, 
 
 They're all the while encroaching 
 On every right we hold most dear. 
 
 On all that's worth the keeping. 
 Citizens, awake and hear. 
 
 This is no time for sleeping ! 
 
PAUL REVERE'S RIDE 
 
 AMERICAN children when you hear 
 Of the '' Midnight ride of Paul Revere," 
 As told by Longfellow ; at a time 
 When American history wasn't a crime, 
 
 You may like to ask, or may wish to know, 
 Upon what errand did Paul Revere go, 
 And why did his friend climb up in the dark. 
 To place on the Belfry the signal spark ? 
 
 In all the school books here of old, 
 
 The story was well and clearly told, 
 
 How Revere that night where he went or came 
 
 Set the torch of liberty all aflame. 
 
 And how at Concord and Lexington, 
 
 The farmers turned out every one, 
 
 Just as the Boers are doing to-day 
 
 For the same old fight, in the same old way. 
 
 But since we've got aristocracy here, 
 
 Who visit England year after year, 
 
 " 'Tisn't thought good form " as in days of old 
 
 To have the story again retold. 
 
 So the children attending our schools to-day, 
 Learn little or nothing about the way 
 The farmers at Concord their flag unfurled 
 And ** fired the shot heard round the world." 
 
 18 
 
SONGS AND POEMS Id 
 
 And how the minute-men all the way down 
 Through Lexington, Arlington, Charlestown, 
 Kept red-coat hirelings upon the run 
 And the first great battle for Freedom won. 
 
 But why should we now, of our heroes sing, 
 When we're doing ourselves the self-same thing 
 That the English did, or were trying to do, 
 When we rose in our might and their Cohorts slew ? 
 
 Yes ! we're doing worse without provocation 
 Or the faintest claim, — the Phillipine nation 
 Expected as promised our timely aid. 
 But instead we gave her a robber raid. 
 
 George the Third had, here, full possession, 
 But turned deaf ears to each intercession, 
 Characteristic of English greed. 
 Not one request would King George concede. 
 
 He thought he was right and from his point view, 
 Were you in his place you'd have thought so too ; 
 For all those trained as queens or kings. 
 Think themselves angels, — without the wings. 
 
 King George thought himself 'kin to divinity 
 And had, without buying it, sovereignty , 
 He thought the Colonies were his by right, 
 So hoe, pigheaded, kept up the fight. 
 
 George had at least a king's excuse. 
 
 The dogs of war and rapine to loose, 
 
 But we bought sovereignty after a manner. 
 
 And have trailed in blood our Starry Banner. 
 
20 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Our rulers apparently think that we, 
 Like George the third have a destiny, 
 Since Chamberlain came in an evil hour 
 And told them to make us a " world power." 
 
 " Then, the two great wings of English people 
 Would crush out all those crude and feeble ; 
 And then, with the Starry-Jack unfurled 
 The Anglo-Saxons would rule the world. 
 
 By the British brand of Civilization," 
 
 Which means, interpreted, confiscation. 
 
 The picture dazzled our ruler's eyes. 
 
 And they swallowed the bait to secure the prize — 
 
 They promised England to be her friend. 
 Her lines on this continent to defend. 
 While she, in South Africa, settled her scores ; 
 Wit A Liberty's Sons, the unconquered Boers. 
 
 So they changed their course in the Phillippines, 
 Spend hundreds of millions of the people's means, 
 With thousands of lives and with lying galore. 
 They have made them our foes,who were friends before. 
 
 Then, American children when you hear, 
 The garbled story of Paul Revere, 
 Be sure, do not stop, 'till you get the rest, 
 The best of the story has been suppressed. 
 
 Before we carry out Britain's will, 
 Let's take the shaft first off Bunker Hill ; 
 Give up, — be ruled by our aristocracy. 
 Our boasted liberty is rank hypocrisy ! 
 
MOUNTAINS OF WEALTH VS. 
 VALLEYS OF WANT. 
 
 WHAT a world of joy and of pleasure, 
 We could make of this earth while we're here, 
 If insatiate greed after treasure 
 From 'mongst us would once disappear ! 
 We then, while assisting each other. 
 Would practice this principle true. 
 Act towards every sister and brother 
 As you would have them act towards you 1 
 
 Then, selfishness from us would vanish, 
 There would be no room for its play ; 
 The people would cease to be clannish, 
 With gratitude all would repay — 
 The moment it came in their power. 
 The favors that for them were done ; 
 Then, Heaven its blessings would shower, 
 On everyone under the sun ! 
 
 No need then for hauling or mauling. 
 No need for ** political pull ; " 
 Everyone would attend to their calling, 
 The bear would lie down with the bull ; 
 With resources of civilization 
 Applied to the general good, 
 There would be no more irritation / 
 Of race, or of creed, or of blood 1 
 
22 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Where's the sense in this piling of treasure ? 
 
 It cannot be brought to the grave, 
 
 Those with greatest of wealth have least pleasure, 
 
 It makes its possessor a slave ; 
 
 And then, when the soul just departed 
 
 Is sent where the Judge has assigned ; 
 
 Those friends feel the least broken-hearted, 
 
 Who, most of the treasure can find ! 
 
 Honest, moderate wealth is a blessing. 
 When used in the right kind of way ; 
 It gives people means of redressing 
 Such sorrows as come every day ; 
 If the hills and the mountains of treasure 
 Were not piled so high we all know. 
 The valleys of want in like measure 
 Would not sink so hopelessly low ! 
 
 But patience — the time is approaching, 
 There's no use in fretting at all ; 
 The more on our rights they're encroaching, 
 The sooner and deeper their fall : 
 Not their fall, but the fall of the idols, 
 Of wealth, and of pomp and of show. 
 When we doff slavish saddles and bridles 
 We'll have plenty and peace here below ! 
 
WATERTOWN TOWN HALL. 
 
 To Henry Clay Derby whose genial disposition smoothed down 
 many a rising tempest and whose generous nature broadened out 
 narrow minds ; the following is respectfully dedicated : 
 
 1CAME to live in Watertown in eighteen sixty 
 three, 
 
 Ever since the town and people have grown very dear 
 to me. 
 
 I at first had slight acquaintance ; not a solitary 
 friend 
 
 And hadn't much temptation, leisure hours to mis- 
 spend. 
 
 I read much and cogitated over National affairs 
 
 And grew deeply interested ; it grows on one una- 
 wares ; 
 
 And to every town meeting, the selectmen used to 
 call, 
 
 I went in to hear the speeches made, in Watertown, 
 Town Hall. 
 
 At town meetings young men listened, some to learn, 
 
 some for sport, 
 Whilst the older men dissected, each and every town 
 
 report ; 
 Assessors and collector, selectmen, school committee, 
 The treasurer, the auditor, or no one else went free, 
 From the very closest scrutiny, just this and nothing 
 
 more, 
 
24 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Then, of course, they re-elected each to where he 
 
 was before ; 
 But with all their hot debating, not a word did ever 
 
 fall, 
 That left behind a sting or pain, in Watertown Town 
 
 Hall. 
 
 But many of the citizens, some of the very best. 
 
 Sat still and calmly listened until came the voting 
 test. 
 
 These always gave the casting votes, the votes that 
 won the day, 
 
 And then laughed off ill feeling, gently, playfully 
 away ; 
 
 They acted as a brake upon, men of mercurial thought, 
 
 Who'd jump at quick conclusions, always quicker 
 than they ought. 
 
 Thus, were things so nicely balanced, at the modera- 
 tor's call. 
 
 There came promptly peace and order, in old Water- 
 town Town Hall. 
 
 When any great calamity occurred, no matter where, 
 A helping-hand from Watertown was always foremost 
 
 there ; 
 The victims of disaster or disease met timely aid, 
 'Twas agreed, when aid is needed, it should never be 
 
 delayed. 
 So, 'though close and calculating, they were generous 
 
 and kind, 
 A higher public spirit 'twould be difficult to find ; 
 The honest public sentiment pervading one and all. 
 Resulted from the teaching in, old Watertown, Town 
 
 Hall. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 26 
 
 A thirteen acre lot was bought and named Wetomac 
 
 Vale, 
 
 For cemetery purposes — laid out in lots for sale. 
 A man proposed division for the Catholics in town, 
 But he who raised the question, was the first to vote 
 it down. 
 
 There were some amusing features in this question, 
 
 very grave ^ 
 
 Full many gruesome arguments the opposition gave, 
 But, to quash Sectarian feeling and avoid Sectarian 
 brawl, 
 
 We wisely turned and sold the lot, in Watertown, 
 Town Hall. 
 
 On the question of pure water to supply it to the 
 Town, 
 
 Arose the highest friction — with some few it wouldn't 
 down. 
 
 For ten long years we wrestled with, and threshed it 
 o'er, until, 
 
 A company took hold of it and managed it with skill. 
 From the start I was for water, I worked for it night 
 and day. 
 
 And drank one long deep draught of it, the morn I 
 moved away ; 
 
 This was the only question that my memory can 
 recall. 
 
 That left, just a few, disgruntled in old Watertown, 
 Town Hall. 
 
 I here mention these two questions just as samples, 
 
 nothing more. 
 But could, did time and space permit, enumerate a 
 
 score, 
 
26 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 To illustrate to those who now, the ribbons hold in 
 
 hand, 
 The high ideals of olden times, all o'er this Yankee 
 
 land. 
 But selfishness is plainly spreading, growing day by 
 
 day; 
 I'm sorry I have seen it come before I passed away ; 
 For, if self-government survives on earth 'mongst 
 
 men at all, 
 'Twill be by the ideals, once, of Watertown, Town 
 
 Hall. 
 
 The grand old men of Watertown are passing one by 
 
 one, 
 And in a few short years at most, they'll all be dead 
 
 and gone. 
 Will those who take their places be as trictly pure 
 
 and clean } 
 Will they stand up for right and frown on things 
 
 obscure and mean ; 
 Will the welfare of the people stand out foremost in 
 
 their view 
 And will they for true liberty, do what true men 
 
 should do } 
 If so, God's choicest blessings on their words and 
 
 work will fall, 
 As once it did, on what was said, in Watertown 
 
 Town Hall. 
 
SAILING DOWN THE HARBOR 
 
 [Written for the occasion of the excursion of the Irish- American 
 Club, South Boston to Gloucester, Aug. 7, 1887.] 
 
 SAILING down the harbor, skipping down the 
 bay, 
 Let us be a jovial, social, happy crowd to-day, 
 Far from grief and sorrow, free from care and woe, 
 Sailing down the harbor where the cooling breezes 
 blow. 
 
 Our ship is staunch and steady, our captain brave 
 
 and true. 
 Cheerfully assisted by a faithful hardy crew, 
 Then never think of danger, let mirth and humor 
 
 flow. 
 Sailing down the harbor where the cooling breezes 
 
 blow. 
 
 Down in Boston Harbor with spirits light and free. 
 Where once the Sons of Freedom dumped in the 
 
 British tea 
 And where the English squadron upon St. Patrick's 
 
 day 
 For safety weighed their anchors and abruptly stole 
 
 away. 
 
 Oh ! would, dear Mother Erin, this boat were bound 
 
 for thee. 
 Sailing o'er the surface of this placid, tranquil sea, 
 
28 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 How joyfully we'd greet thee, dear Mother, could we 
 
 find 
 Thee free and independent as this land we leave 
 
 behind. 
 
 Life is like the ocean, we're on it night and day ; 
 
 Some sail with wind and tide, while some are 
 wrecked and cast away, 
 
 Then when you see a brother wrecked on misfor- 
 tune's Strand 
 
 Don't pass him coldly by but reach a friendly help- 
 ing hand. 
 
 Sailing down life's harbor, rushing through the years 
 Sometimes we have cause for smiles and sometimes 
 
 cause for tears. 
 So let us steer our life-boats that when the haven's 
 
 won. 
 We may look back with joy upon the good that we 
 
 have done. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO 
 
 Written on the Centennial Anniversary of the Declaration of 
 Independence, July 4, 1876. 
 
 Air — Irish Molly O. 
 
 ?nniS just one hundred years ago since George the 
 
 1 Third went mad, 
 He swore he tax the Yankees land, and everything 
 
 they had, 
 But Uncle Sam got up his back and vowed it wouldn't 
 
 He trampled on the English flag One Hundred Years 
 Ago. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Hip, hurrah ! for the men — 
 Men who fought the tyrant foe 
 
 And burst the chains of all oppressed 
 One Hundred Years Ago ! 
 
 How the people supplicated, almost knelt before the 
 throne. 
 
 The cold contempt they met, when they their griev- 
 ances made known. 
 
 How the haughty hireling soldiers made the quarrel 
 wider grow. 
 
 Is written in the story of One Hundred Years Ago. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 You've heard about young Paul Revere, the signal on 
 
 the spire. 
 His ride, and how he touched the spark that kindled 
 
 freedom's fire, 
 
30 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 The way he roused the farmers up, and how they 
 
 met the foe, 
 On Liberty's nativity, One Hundred Years Ago. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 In Lexington and Concord, how the minute men did 
 
 swarm ; 
 For English red coats on that day, "you bet " they 
 
 made it warm. 
 They didn't count the cost, but let their life's red 
 
 current flow. 
 And baptized freedom in their blood. One Hundred 
 
 Years Ago. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 In Boston and vicinity for many miles around. 
 
 The tread of hostle troops was heard — a most un- 
 welcome sound ; 
 
 But Yankee tactics joined with Yankee energy and 
 skill, 
 
 Made Johnny Bull pull up his stakes, and move 
 against his will. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 For seven years the unequal strife relentlessly went 
 on. 
 
 Our side directed by the ever glorious Washington, 
 
 Till victory with tardy steps her smiling face did 
 show, 
 
 And perched upon the stars and stripes. One Hun- 
 dred Years Ago. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 I won't attempt in detail their achievements to re- 
 hearse, 
 
 I'll leave that task to greater bards and more exalted 
 verse ; 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 31 
 
 My object is to make the youthful heart with fervor 
 glow, 
 
 While singing of the heroes of One Hundred Years 
 Ago. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Oh, may we ever emulate the noble deeds they've 
 
 done. 
 Let's hand their record down with care from sire 
 
 unto son, 
 That generations yet unborn with joyous hearts may 
 
 know, 
 The gallant deeds their fathers did One Hundred 
 
 Years Ago. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Then let us on this glorious day send up a ringing 
 
 cheer, 
 And let it be re-echoed in lands both far and near, 
 Till countries that are long oppressed may rise and 
 
 strike a blow 
 
 For freedom as the Yankee did One Hundred Years 
 Ago. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 You sons of old Hibernia, who have made this land 
 your home, 
 
 And who were forced by wicked laws, for shelter 
 here to come. 
 
 Oh don't forget the men who did their doors wide 
 open throw. 
 
 To all that were oppressed on earth One Hundred 
 Years Ago. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
32 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Oh Erin, dear, my native land, the land I love the 
 best, 
 
 When will thy sons rise up as if by magic from thy 
 breast, 
 
 And with determined purpose meet the same relent- 
 less foe. 
 
 And thrash him as the Yankee did One Hundred 
 Years Ago. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
AN ADDRESS TO THE CHARLES 
 RIVER 
 
 THE rivers and streams in all countries and ages, 
 Have always inspired the Bard's choicest strain, 
 Their fame has been treasured in history's pages, 
 And the voice of their water's in music's refrain ; 
 But here is a stream in whose praise scarcely ever 
 A line or a note has been written or sung. 
 
 Yet 'twas on thy banks, beauteous bright Charles 
 river, 
 
 That Freedom's first trophy from tyrants was wrung. 
 
 Old Erin's great bard in his ** Meeting of Waters," 
 How tenderly sweet were the numbers he gave, 
 But alas ! by those streams Erin's sons and fair 
 daughters. 
 
 Still sigh like the captive, or weep like the slave ; 
 But here as the Charles is peacefully flowing, 
 Meandering down from its source to the sea, 
 A smile o'er its surface seems cheerfully glowing, 
 Whilst fanned by the breezes of sweet Liberty. 
 
 In praising the Afton and Boon, Robert Burns 
 Excelled e'en himself in each word and each line ; 
 But the sound of the Pibroch those streams ne'er 
 
 returns. 
 Nor their water no longer doth moisten the pine. 
 But here, 'ere the Charles is lost in the ocean, 
 
34 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 It lingers awhile and is playfully still, 
 
 As if rippling with joy till the tide is in motion, 
 
 Reflecting the shaft of far famed Bunker Hill. 
 
 When Nature, fair river, her gifts cast around thee, 
 She lavished upon thee her rarest and best. 
 But the halo of heroic deeds which surround thee, 
 Is what makes thee dear to the patriot breast ; 
 For 'twas on thy banks in the great revolution. 
 When tyrants determined this land to enslave. 
 They met with decisive and quick retribution. 
 Their blood stained thy shore and thy clear crystal 
 wave. 
 
 Yet those heroes of old, ever foremost in danger, 
 Fit men to inhabit thy beautiful plains, 
 Who hurled back with slaughter the despotic stranger, 
 Whenever fair freedom was threatened with chains. 
 Left no lordly castles disgracing thy border, 
 With hundreds of hovels maintaining their pride, 
 But the fruits of frugality, neatness and order, 
 And opulent comfort on every side. 
 
 Since I left thee, dear Erin, sweet gem of the ocean, 
 I've travelled o'er many and many a mile. 
 Yet my heart's highest hope and its fondest devotion. 
 Still lingers unchanged with my dear native isle ; 
 But since fate has decreed that thy children must 
 ever 
 
 Fly from thee afar if they wish to be free, 
 
 Then a home on the banks of the bright Charles 
 
 river. 
 Next to thee, beloved Erin, is dearest to me. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 35 
 
 Flow on then in peace, glide along, beauteous river, 
 
 As a messenger down to the great rolling sea, 
 
 Bid the waves bear thee onward that thou mayst 
 
 deliver 
 A message of hope to my country from me. 
 Rise up a mist o'er that island of sorrow. 
 Fall down as a shower on every sod. 
 Bid her sons as thy pure inspiration they borrow, 
 Bow allegiance to none but their Country and God. 
 
THE ACQUISITION OF CANADA 
 
 Our greatest duty — the thought of every public man, year in 
 and year out, should be directed to this, our greatest national, 
 economic, political and military safety, the acquisition of Canada. 
 — Boston Record. 
 
 DEAR Record, your idea is grand, 
 You are right by all manner of means ! 
 If Uncle Sam wants to expand. 
 With Canada here at his hand, 
 
 Why reach out to far Philipines ? 
 
 You are right — every sane public man 
 Should study year in, and year out. 
 
 How best to accomplish your plan 
 
 As smooth and as soon as we can ; 
 It must be done soon without doubt. 
 
 Acquisition of Canada when 
 
 Sought not on low land grabbing lines 
 
 But for greater good for all men — 
 
 'Twill come about naturally then. 
 In the way common justice defines. 
 
 Our safety you truthfully say 
 
 Economic, political too — 
 Consists in Sam getting full sway — 
 Then, Canada people could stay 
 
 At home and find plenty to do. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 37 
 
 While now her fair daughters come here, 
 
 And also her sons in their prime, 
 And stories too often we hear, 
 That, some of them, year after year. 
 
 Make not the best use of their time. 
 
 How blind the Canadians must be, 
 To send their young people away ! 
 
 The blindest are those who wont see 
 
 That if their own country was free 
 They wouldn't be driven away. 
 
 Arbitration we then wouldn't need, 
 
 In fact we don't need it at all ; 
 We have not a thing to concede — 
 In thought, or in word, or in deed ; 
 
 For which England on us can call. 
 
 A bargain can quickly be made. 
 
 So pay Mr. Bull a fair price. 
 Though Sam is by no means afraid, 
 He wants no land grabbing by raid. 
 
 He'll buy the whole thing, not a slice. 
 
 Let history mould on its shelves. 
 Thenceforward the world can see, 
 
 A people that digs and that delves. 
 
 Successfully governs themselves, 
 In a land blest, contented and free. 
 
RECIPROCITY 
 
 Irish Air — Patrick O'Rafferty 
 
 A surfeit of over-worked, out-of-date sophistry 
 Is urged here of late against fair reciprocity ; 
 To please a mere few of the (once-famed) Home Mar- 
 ket Club, 
 The people by millions are robbed buying market 
 grub. 
 Oh ! dear, — what shall become of us ? 
 Through — fear — many are mum of us ! 
 For fear of offending some Glou-ces-ter cod-fishers. 
 We pay about double to Home Market shad-fishers. 
 
 They brag and they boast about booming prosperity — 
 Who ever before heard such base insincerity ? 
 With prices a-kiting, pay cut with ferocity ; 
 " Stand pat " is the mandate against reciprocity. 
 
 How — queer — 'tisn't through statesmanship ; 
 
 Through — fear — " Boss " holds his leadership. 
 And, lest son-in-law, should lose votes, much menda- 
 city, 
 Is practiced and preached against fair reciprocity. 
 
 There's coal in abundance within a day's sail of us, 
 And lumber galore that would help a great deal of 
 us; ^ 
 
 But lest it might dampen campaign generosity. 
 Hands off, is the dictum against reciprocity. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 39 
 
 How — queer — things that the people want, 
 Though — near — are made so dear and scant. 
 Jump on the band wagon, we'll drive with velocity. 
 Over the schemers who fight reciprocity ! 
 
A NEW RECIPROCITY SONG 
 
 Air — The Good Old Summer Time 
 
 FOR years we discussed, 
 And we fussed, and was cussed, 
 For protection 'gainst foreign free-trade — 
 
 Then the trusts came a rushing, 
 
 And pushing and crushing, 
 Grabbing all the protectionists' aid. 
 
 They're now getting the fat. 
 
 And their cry is, " stand pat," 
 Roaring out a fanatical blare — 
 
 To down their audacity 
 
 'Gainst reciprocity. 
 We'll fight for a deal fair and square. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 We want but an honest deal boys — 
 
 A square and honest deal ; 
 We'll make those who refuse boys. 
 
 Our indignation feel — 
 
 " Stand pat ! " for what ? 
 Let trusts get fat 
 While workers in indigence reel, 
 
 To down this audacity, 
 
 'Gainst reciprocity. 
 We demand a Rooseveltian deal ! 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 41 
 
 Working women and men 
 
 That again and again, 
 Had been promised a short working day ! 
 
 (With " home market " protected, 
 
 The way it directed. 
 To keep foreign products away), 
 
 Receive no attention. 
 
 Not one word of mention, 
 High prices, long hours, is their share — 
 
 To down this audacity, 
 
 'Gainst reciprocity. 
 We're demanding a deal fair and square. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
THE NIGHTWATCH OF LIBERTY 
 BELL 
 
 Respectfully dedicated to Sergt. Edwin E. Snow, June 17, 1903. 
 
 AMONG the attractions in Boston of late, 
 That of welcoming Liberty Bell 
 Afforded Bostonians a pleasure so great 
 
 'T will long in their memory dwell. 
 Philadelphia's Mayor escorted it here ; 
 *T was received by our Mayor with welcome sincere ; 
 The people in thousands came from far and near 
 To welcome Old Liberty Bell. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 The Bell that rang out independence 
 Was met with most loving remembrance ; 
 With earnest, respectful attendance, 
 All welcomed Old Liberty Bell. 
 
 It was not curiosity brought people out 
 
 To gaze on old Liberty Bell ; 
 *Twas not for amusement nor frolic nor rout : 
 
 It was for what it once toll-ed so well. 
 The precious old Bell, after making its call 
 On famed Bunker Hill and old Faneuil Hall, 
 Was placed on the Common for one and for all 
 
 To visit Old Liberty Bell. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 43 
 
 The Ancient Artillery, chosen, of course, 
 
 To guard the loved relic all night, 
 Were duly provided with every resource 
 
 For a duty so pleasant and light. 
 Through lowering clouds not a star shed a ray. 
 Yet electrical sparks turned dark night into day, 
 Enabling thousands due homage to pay 
 
 Inspiring Old Liberty Bell. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 They came in vast numbers, no creed, race, or class, 
 
 Was thought of all day or all night ; 
 They formed in line orderly by it to pass — 
 
 To touch it gave keenest delight. 
 Then after midnight, when the living had fled. 
 The Ancients declare the illustrious dead 
 Came hovering round it, and wise words they said 
 
 While visiting Liberty Bell. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Patrick Henry, the Adamses, Hancock, Revere, 
 
 With Jefferson, came in full view ; 
 George Washington, dignified, calm, and severe. 
 
 With Franklin and others came, too. 
 The Ancients were feeling the right kind of way 
 To listen and hear what the ghosts had to say 
 From the midhour of night till the dawning of day, 
 
 As they hovered round Liberty Bell. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Benjamin Frankhn, the wise and the good 
 (The Ancients declare without doubt), 
 
44 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Arose and most earnestly said, as he stood, 
 
 To the Bell, before all those about : 
 '* It is well you have visited Boston ; 
 Strange seas is the ship-of -state tossed on ; 
 It would seem independence is lost on 
 
 Some new statesmen. Liberty Bell." 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 George Washington, rising with dignity said : 
 
 " Those new statesmen slight or ignore 
 My farewell address and the lines therein laid 
 
 By myself and the statesmen of yore ; 
 Imperialist leanings, the mountainous wealth 
 Obtained and amassed mostly through legal stealth 
 Is fast undermining clean, strong public health," 
 " Too true ! " echoed all round the Bell. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 John Hancock declared that the term Commonwealth, 
 
 Which he to the Puritans traced. 
 While laws are enacted to legalize stealth. 
 
 Is misunderstood or misplaced. 
 Tom Jefferson, smiling, said to Paul Revere : 
 '* 'T is well that the Ancients are listening here ; 
 They will spread what is said far and wide, never fear. 
 
 By us ghosts around Liberty Bell." 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Patrick Henry arose and said : " Be of good cheer ; 
 
 The people as ever are right ; 
 I have witnessed the throngs that came eagerly here 
 
 To visit this Bell day and night. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 45 
 
 As before, when the time comes they'll say in a breath, 
 ' Arise, freemen, rise ; we'll have freedom or death ! ' 
 Then self-seeking schemes will be trod underneath." 
 " Hip hurrah ! " echoed all round the Bell. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 I cannot relate all the Ancients heard said 
 
 While guarding the Bell through the night, 
 Suffice it to say, they declared to the dead 
 
 They themselves would for Liberty fight. 
 The '' Thorndike " handy, they visited oft. 
 And many bright toasts to sweet Liberty quaffed. 
 Till the ghosts, they declare, joined their party and 
 laughed. 
 
 And all drank au revoir to the Bell. 
 
 Chorus, 
 
THE PEOPLE'S CAMPAIGN 
 
 Irish Air — Heartily Welcome Everyone. 
 
 THE campaign for justice and right has begun 
 Let's all take a hand till the vict'ry is won ; 
 Imperialist trusts have sprung up by the score, 
 That never were known in this country before, 
 Grafters all 
 Plundering Grafters ! 
 Self-seeking graft-grabbers 
 Everyone ! 
 
 The hide-and-go-seek way, these trusts came along. 
 Shows plainly as day they are founded on wrong ; 
 Then loiter no longer — jump into the fight, 
 For fairplay and honesty, justice and right. 
 
 Put down all. 
 
 Trustified grafters ! 
 
 Self-seeking graft-grabbers 
 Everyone ! 
 
 The imperialist trusts that came on us by stealth. 
 
 Is fast undermining industrial health 
 
 The cause of the people no grafter can see, 
 
 His thought is " How much is there in it for me } " 
 
 Grafters all. 
 
 Illegal Grafters ! 
 
 Self-seeking graft-grabbers 
 Everyone ! 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 47 
 
 The -' Home-market " having been monopolized, 
 Foreign Markets by '' Home-market " grabbers are 
 
 prized, 
 Not through reciprocity — honest — sincere 
 But to sell surplus — goods to keep prices up here. 
 Home competition 
 Gone to perdition ! 
 Strangled by trust-grabbers 
 All of it gone ! 
 
 Doctor Faunce said in Boston ** a boss doesn't lead 
 Place villians in office, for villians they'll plead, 
 A leader and boss cannot well be the same 
 One stands for the right — one looks out for the game." 
 
 Down them all ! 
 
 Bosses and villians. 
 
 Self-seeking graft-grabbers 
 Everyone ! 
 
 To show up the schemers who are in it for stuff, 
 Year in, and year out, will be little enough ! 
 Then all pull together with hearty accord 
 The work people's voice is the voice of the Lord. 
 Workers all 
 Honest wage workers 
 Down with the trust-grafters 
 Everyone. 
 
POPULATION vs. SELF- 
 PRESERVATION 
 
 SOME four and eighty years ago, 
 One Malthus wrote — how population 
 Would, if not checked, soon far outgrow 
 
 Resources of the proudest nation ; 
 That famine, pestilence and war 
 Were Providential visitations. 
 Sent by our Great Creator for 
 Reducing surplus populations ! 
 
 In those days though the things were crude, 
 
 Engaged in sustenance production ; 
 Such talk was but a thin prelude 
 
 To some projected loot eruption. 
 Even now in these inventive times, 
 
 With multiplied productive power ; 
 The looters still, to shield their crimes, 
 
 Behind some thin excuses cower. 
 
 The threatening dangers which arise. 
 
 Like spectres passing 'neath our vision, 
 Have ceased to even cause surprise. 
 
 Though gaining daily in precision. 
 We do not even halt to ask 
 
 Where-to our ship of state is drifting. 
 Those who in wealth and power bask. 
 
 Don't stop to see her ballast shifting. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 49 
 
 But, patience — in God's own good time' 
 
 When selfishness has gone the limit ; 
 His ** punishment will fit the crime ; " 
 
 From Him, excuses cannot dim it. 
 He has found a leader, as before, 
 
 (When prudent leadership was needed,) 
 Who'll guide us as in days of yore, 
 
 When to Him men for justice pleaded. 
 
AN OPEN EPISTLE TO HONORABLE 
 HENRY CABOT LODGE 
 
 HONORABLE Henry Cabot Lodge, 
 Why do you honest issues dodge, 
 Making political hodge-podge 
 Of this whole matter, 
 Hiding 'midst sophistry and fudge 
 A staunch stand-patter ? 
 
 You seem by every word and deed 
 
 To think, men don't know what they need, 
 
 While venal trust's insatiate greed, 
 
 Is backed by you, 
 Whatever they request you heed, 
 
 And promptly do. 
 
 Your estimate seems rather low, 
 Of what the common people know. 
 At least for them you yearly show 
 
 Much unconcern ; 
 Though scholarly you're sometimes slow 
 
 Plain facts to learn. 
 
 For many moons wise business men. 
 Have asked again and yet again. 
 To have you take up there and then 
 And plead their cause ; 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 51 
 
 You have sneered at all their pleadings, when 
 On tariff laws. 
 
 You never yet told square and flat, 
 In manly terms, where you are at, 
 Whether or not you are standing pat 
 
 'Gainst reciprocity. 
 You talk of everything but that, 
 
 With much verbosity. 
 
 Now let me ask you, sir, in brief ; 
 
 Is it not time to get relief, 
 
 From every scheming public thief ^ 
 
 Square legislation, 
 Would bring the culprits all to grief 
 
 Throughout the nation. 
 
 I long had fondest hopes that you 
 Would nothing but the square thing do, 
 But I must take a different view, 
 
 Alas I must ! 
 Since you, your strenuous efforts threw, 
 
 To aid the trusts. 
 
 Full many a time I've talked with you, 
 
 About protection fair and true, 
 
 But since, trust grafters made a stew 
 
 Not heard of then ; 
 The tariff now protects these few — 
 
 Not workingmen. 
 
 We used to say — home competition. 
 Kept prices in a safe position ; 
 
52 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 But now, they're running to perdition 
 
 Hop, step and leap ! 
 Fixed by trust emanant volition 
 
 Up wealth to heap. 
 
 Trusts lower the price to each producer, 
 
 Increases it 'gainst each consumer. 
 
 Of free trade there's left scarce a rumor 
 
 Between the States ; 
 Yet, to stand pat you're greatest boomer 
 
 That now orates. 
 
 " O wad some power the gif tie gie us 
 
 To see oursels as others see us ! 
 
 It wad frae monie a blunder free us," 
 
 In legislation ; 
 We'd make trust graft-promoters flee us, 
 
 In trepidation ! 
 
 Then, clear of legislative stealth. 
 We'd have once more a Commonwealth^ 
 Then, industry would have sound health 
 
 Again, — and Honor. 
 Would soon be cleansed from all the filth 
 
 Now piled upon her ! 
 
 This ends epistle one, to you. 
 But soon I'll write epistle two, 
 I'll give a cursory review 
 
 Since eighty-four ; 
 Of things you did and did not do — 
 
 Till then, no more ! 
 
WHITELAW REID'S CORONATION 
 BREECHES 
 
 YE Anglomaniacs attend, 
 I have composed for ye a ditty ; 
 Your hides are thick — I can't offend, 
 
 But then it's meant for ye in pity. 
 How Whitelaw Reid was sent, all know ; 
 
 He paid his way from his own riches, 
 To see the coronation show. 
 
 And wear his coronation breeches."^" 
 
 When Kitchener to down the Boer 
 
 Drove young and old in concentration, 
 King Edward's stomach got too sore 
 
 For fear 'twould spoil his coronation. 
 His sickness now is much deplored, 
 
 He's all patched up with scars and stitches. 
 The coronation is postponed 
 
 And Whitelaw Reid can't wear his breeches. 
 
 '* The best laid schemes o' mice an men 
 Gang aft a glie," said Robert Burns ; 
 
 Even kings are not exempted — when 
 
 Adverse winds blow, they take their turns. 
 
 'Though toadies cringe to lowest plane 
 They're often caught in unseen ditches ; 
 
 *A11 but the last verse was written immediately after King 
 Edward's coronation. 
 
54 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 So Reid can't bear King Edward's train, 
 Nor wear his Coronation breeches. 
 
 King Edward now is getting well, 
 
 That he was ill is problematic ; 
 Some well informed say he fell 
 
 In sickness, Royal — diplomatic. 
 But be this question as it may, 
 
 Another this one far out-reaches, 
 All Anglo-Saxons ask and say 
 
 What shall be done with Whitelaw's breeches. 
 
 Well, Whitelaw now is back again. 
 
 He has at last his fond desire ; 
 He need'nt dress in trousers plain, 
 
 Such as Americans require. 
 He'll revel in each English fad 
 
 Without mishaps or halts or hitches. 
 His fawning nature must feel glad 
 
 To wear his coronation breeches. 
 
BOSTON'S WELCOME TO GRAND 
 ARMY VETERANS 
 
 Written for and dedicated to the G. A. R. and their Southern 
 guests at their camp-fire in Boston, August 16, 1904. 
 
 OLD Boston is dressed in her finest array 
 To honor the blue and to welcome the gray, 
 From her heart, in response to fraternity's call. 
 She bids a warm, <' cead mille faulthia" to all. 
 This welcome she gives with the keenest sincerity ; 
 Untained by sect, or by section asperity. 
 Her prayer is : May union, peace, friendship, pros- 
 perity 
 Bless every square foot of our God-given soil ! 
 
 It's a glorious sight for our eyes to behold : 
 
 Too precious for purchase by silver or gold ; 
 
 To see brave old vet'rans — the South with the 
 
 North — 
 In peace marching peacefully, cheerfully forth. 
 And here in the birth-place of full human liberty — 
 Still as ever opposed to monarchical deviltry — 
 Is the place to cement friendship, union, civility ; 
 Getting rid, and forever, of sectional wrath. 
 
 A true Boston welcome we tender to all ; 
 May no note of discord from anyone fall. 
 From swelling Atlantic's to Pacific's shore. 
 May union and peace be the cry evermore. 
 
56 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Let this form the basis of loyal fraternity , 
 Reaching through time to the verge of eternity. 
 Let's ask through our Heavenly Father's paternity 
 The graces we need and the peace we implore. 
 
 Then, vet'rans, when going from Boston away, 
 
 Take with you our very best wishes for aye ! 
 
 That the peace you have conquered may with us 
 
 remain : 
 Your ballots, not bullets, can do it again. 
 When this country you saved shall be ruled with 
 
 sobriety — 
 Not with the intrusive, imperial variety, 
 For which of late years we have gained notoriety — 
 The blood you have shed won't have fallen in vain. 
 
ENGLAND'S PEACE INVASION OF 
 BOSTON 
 
 OR 
 
 John Bull and Uncle Sam 
 
 AIR — Yankee Doodle. 
 
 ONCE big John Bull and Uncle Sam 
 Had much misunderstanding, 
 Big Johnny thought it all a sham, 
 
 And kept on, troops here landing. 
 All this was when young Sam was weak, 
 
 But since he has grown stronger 
 John Bull and sons no trouble seek 
 They're enemies no longer. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 For Uncle Sam is great and strong 
 And yearly growing stronger 
 With him John now would jog along 
 As enemy no longer. 
 
 Brave Uncle Sam made one mistake 
 
 Amongst the Filipinos 
 Another chance he will not take 
 
 Not with the experience he knows 
 'Twas England lured him into it 
 
 Joe Chamberlain came over 
 
68 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Assured McKinley 'twould be fit 
 And Sam would be in clover. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 They wanted to entangle Sam 
 
 While John the Boers invaded 
 
 When they propose this new peace sham 
 
 There's some place to be raided. 
 
 John's peace-men now have come across 
 
 The swelling foaming ocean 
 They say they come to save all loss 
 
 From wars wild, fierce commotion, 
 The truth is, both John's hands are full 
 
 Of plundered prostrate nations 
 And, they want Sam to aid John Bull 
 
 In all his devastations. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 But Uncle Sam unlike Japan 
 Won't fill John's expectations 
 Nor soil his hands to aid the plan 
 Of plundering foreign nations. 
 
THE HOME MARKET CLUB 
 
 Edward Fitzwilliam : I have invited about thirty gentlemen, 
 yourself included, to take a Norfolk Club Dinner with me at 
 Parker House, Saturday, Feb. 12, at 2 P.M. 
 
 I desire to form a non-political club in favor of protecting our 
 own market for our own people. 
 
 Please reply immediately, 
 
 George Draper. 
 HoPEDALE, Mass., P'eb. 3, 1887. 
 
 GEORGE Draper first formed the Home Market 
 Club. 
 Said he, " It shan't be a big banquet club, 
 Nor a partisan, prostitute blanket club, 
 
 To cover political crimes, 
 It will be a sincere educational club. 
 Not a thick-and-thin party sensational club, 
 But an all-wool American national club ; 
 To cope with the greed of the times. 
 
 I want it to be a protection club. 
 Not a monopolistic erection club, 
 Nor a game and champagne, indigestion club, 
 
 Where sophists tell fables for facts. 
 I mean it to be a producers' club. 
 Not an impudent, lying traducers' club, 
 Nor a pompous, complacent amusers' club, 
 
 For tricksters to cover their tracks. 
 
 I mean that the weavers' and spinners* club. 
 And every honest bread-winner's club. 
 
60 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 The old and the newly beginners' club, 
 Shall with the Home Market partake. 
 
 It will be a good citizens making club, 
 
 A fair play in giving and taking club ; 
 
 A sound, conscientious non-faking club. 
 
 Our Home Market Club we must make, 
 
 I was with him the day that he named the club. 
 And again on the day that he framed the club. 
 He died — then new schemers defamed the club. 
 
 In many a devious way. 
 It got shaded an A. P. A-istic club,* 
 And a thinly-veiled anti-papistic club. 
 When 'twas made an imperialistic club 
 
 What man of true spirit could stay ? 
 * * * ^ # * * 
 
 It now has become an exclusive club, 
 A Log-i-cal Rooter's obtrusive club, 
 An arrogant dodger's exclusive club. 
 
 As seen in the speeches just made. 
 A pandering, shallow, misleading club. 
 For bosses a cheap interceding club. 
 This recreant new-rich ill-breeding club. 
 
 For new trusts the old have betrayed ! 
 
 * The Home Market Club was started by George Draper of 
 Hopedale, as an educational club, that was to be non-partisan and 
 non-sectarian. Mr. William Power Wilson, the club's first secre- 
 tary will bear testimony to this fact. 
 
 After Mr. Draper's death which occurred soon after the forma- 
 tion of the Club, Mr. Wilson resigned as its secretary and a 
 newly arrived Englishman — Herbert Radcliffe, a free-trader at 
 heart, and a narrow, anti-Irish bigot to boot, by some underhand 
 method or " pull," was selected for and installed Secretary of the 
 Club. Under Radcliffe's management a radical change was made 
 in both the principles and purpose of the club. Instead of it being 
 made an educational non-partisan club, where employer and em- 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 61 
 
 ployee could meet on common ground, once or twice a year, at a 
 dinner not to cost over a dollar or two a plate and an annual 
 business meeting where they could discuss, not only the tariff but 
 other questions of common interest amicably together, as Mr. 
 Draper intended, it started out with a big exclusive manufacturers' 
 banquet at $6.00 a plate and the employee's were conspicuous only 
 by their absence. With reference to the anti-papistic standing of 
 the club ; is it not a fact that Catholics are as conspicuous by their 
 absence as they have been on the Republican State ticket of 
 Massachusetts, on which not a Catholic name has ever yet ap- 
 peared, nor never \Aill appear while Henry Cabot Lodge is boss of 
 that party. This is a statement founded on personal knowltdge 
 and a prediction founded on experience. 
 
THE TRUST-I-FIED HOME 
 MARKET CLUB 
 
 THE trustified Home Market Club, 
 With rich headquarters at the Hub, " 
 Was organized, false views to rub 
 
 From voters of this land, 
 George Draper did it organize — 
 
 Few men than he more square or wise — 
 He died — they changed for schemes and wiles, 
 The principles he planned. 
 
 With all its pertinacity 
 
 And much assumed sagacity ; 
 If Draper were to pass it, he 
 
 Would never know his club. 
 It long since ceased to educate ; 
 
 Its task is but to masticate 
 A yearly, or half-yearly, plate 
 
 Of ill-digesting "grub." 
 
 It dictates to the G. O. P. 
 
 What height the tariff wall must be, 
 A course for every trust to see 
 
 Erected on that wall. 
 Is all the Club is living for. 
 
 It looks and asks for this — no more. 
 On reciprocity it's sore ; 
 
 T won't hear of that at all. 
 
 62 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 68 
 
 It has pet trusts, and cries " stand pat ; " 
 
 "We have the cream ; we have the fat ; 
 Hold firmly on to all we've got, 
 
 Still greater wealth to draw — 
 Put out your cash election time ; 
 
 Stamp out all discontent and crime ; 
 The higher our trusts soar and climb. 
 
 The less we fear the law." 
 
 This pledge was made to workingmen ; 
 
 ** Much shorter hours will answer when 
 A tariff tax is levied — then 
 
 Few foreign goods can come ; 
 With up-to-date machinery 
 And sharpened Yankee keenery ; 
 You'll view earth's beauteous scenery ; 
 
 From work, going early home." 
 
 But with all products trust-i-fied. 
 
 This promise has been nullified ; 
 With markets over-much supplied ; 
 
 The hunt is on for more — 
 Not through the generosity 
 
 Of honest reciprocity, 
 But by un-named atrocity 
 
 On a far, once friendly shore. 
 
 Then, let us up and at them, boys ! 
 
 Upon the run we've got them, boys ; 
 Home market trusts by bluff and noise 
 
 Must never rule this land ! 
 
64 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Remember old-time Minute-men : 
 Domestic foes are here again : 
 
 Arise ! make our loved country clean ; 
 Sincerely — truly grand ! ! 
 
HOW BEST TO CELEBRATE THE 
 FOURTH 
 
 IN East in West in South in North 
 How best to celebrate the Fourth ? 
 In every town and city ward, 
 Let everyone pay due regard, 
 To what occurred upon that day, 
 Fair Freedom's foes to drive away 
 Responsive to her earnest call 
 In far-famed Independence Hall. 
 
 Hold puplic meetings everywhere. 
 In grove or hall, on park or square. 
 Then let all those who prize it most. 
 Rehearse what liberty has cost. 
 
 The sacrifice the Father's made. 
 Of health, of life, of wealth, of trade ; 
 Of sacred honor pledged by all. 
 To " hang together " stand or fall ! 
 Let this be told in prose or rhyme. 
 To offset trust graft-grabbing crime, 
 Which has of late years seemed to grow 
 More dang'rous than worst foreign foe ! 
 
 The meetings over give the boys, 
 Full swing for patriotic noise 
 
66 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 With all the things that make the same, 
 Excepting things that kill or maim ; 
 They'll know the meaning of it then 
 Which they'll remember grown to men. 
 Explosives that would life destroy, 
 'Gainst foreign foes alone, employ, 
 But every man and boy should know. 
 Our one hereditary foe ! 
 
 Domestic foes, the most to fear 
 (And we have quite a few yet here,) 
 By freemens ballots must be fought, 
 To save the boon so dearly bought : 
 A boon that once supinely lost, 
 Can't be retrieved at any cost. 
 
 Let's wait and watch, and watch and wait, 
 The leaven working through the state — 
 Throughout the country far and wide 
 Crooks have aroused the people's pride. 
 And indignation, burning hot. 
 Against the whole nefarious lot. 
 
 John B. Moran to make things straight 
 Has made law stranglers feel irate ; 
 But he has scarcely yet begun 
 Before next Fourth we'll have rare fun ! 
 
 With Fitz in Patrick Collins' chair 
 And Moran working things to square 
 We'll have a Fourth like days of yore 
 When crooks are heard-of nevermore. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Eternal vigilance 'tis said, 
 
 Is still the price that must be paid, 
 
 Gainst foreign foes who would invade, 
 
 And those that we ourselves have made 
 
 By cold indifference — mavrone — 
 
 Or "letting well enough alone." 
 
 John B. has shown — John Fitz will show 
 
 That outlaws from the Hub must go ! 
 
 On reading this dear friend take heart 
 Take hold and do a freeman's part : 
 When we of home-made foes are clear, 
 Of foreign foes we'll have no fear. 
 How best to celebrate the Fourth } 
 Proclaim what liberty is worth, 
 And act it out, by night, by day. 
 Till every fear has passed away. 
 Then this old Hub again shall stand 
 The cleanest city in the land ! 
 
 When cranks and fads and feuds shall cease 
 And wealth producers can have peace 
 When legislators will be clean, 
 And stoop to nothing low or mean ; 
 When third-house schemes are cast aside 
 And Honor can again preside ; 
 Then public cleanliness and health 
 Will bless this grand old Commonwealth. 
 When all things here are reconciled — 
 Assisted by young Governor Guild 
 We'll show to all south, west, and north. 
 How, best to celebrate the Fourth. 
 
THE SCHEMER'S REVOLUTION 
 
 ANEW imperialistic law 
 Is passed on Beacon Hill, 
 The imperial Boss a rare chance saw, 
 To thwart the people's will ; 
 The state police, by Boston paid 
 To keep us all in order ; 
 Must, under this law, change their trade, 
 And make, by their official aid. 
 The road for voters harder. 
 
 The Boss must have dictated this 
 
 Imperialistic notion. 
 
 He wants, of course, to fashion his 
 
 Like that across the ocean. 
 
 Imperialists expect to see 
 
 Us, 'neath this law grow nervous 
 
 When, if we budge the next will be 
 
 The pompous, proud mil-it-a-ry 
 
 Put on election service. 
 
 Full many a change has taken place 
 
 In lightening quick succession, 
 
 For ten years past, look back and trace 
 
 Their lengthening procession. 
 
 These revolutionary acts. 
 
 Are of such quick recurrence ; 
 
 Things that of fraud and folly smacks, 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 69 
 
 Are spread broadcast as candid facts, 
 'Gainst our sincere abhorrence. 
 
 The senseless haste is proof galore, 
 
 The Boss does this desire, 
 
 It is the style the world o'er 
 
 In every great Empire. 
 
 It's full in line with what has past 
 
 In silent evolution. 
 
 Whichever side one's eyes are cast. 
 
 Is seen (however long 'twill last) 
 
 The Schemer s Revolution ! ! 
 
GONE MONEY MAD 
 
 CORRUPT civil service, all true men deplore, 
 Its fetid condition was ne'er known before. 
 The trust lords are setting examples so bad 
 That all the weak-minded have gone money-mad. 
 They see how these schemers grow wealthy by craft, 
 And catch the wide-spread epidemic for graft, 
 Abetted and aided by newly made law 
 Enacted for them without loop-hole or flaw. 
 
 And even the one law that somehow slipped through 
 In aid of the people, is shelved out of view ; 
 This law that would somewhat the trust barons fetter 
 High up on the shelf has become a dead letter. 
 
 Seeing which the weak-minded who handles much 
 
 cash; 
 Says " I'll take a little, but will not be rash, 
 I see the big trusts unmolested by Knox 
 So I'll try my hand in some big booming stocks. 
 If I don't win first, I'll again try my luck. 
 There are plenty who do it and never get stuck 
 And if I get caught which is but a mere chance 
 I have a rich friend who "the dough" will advance. 
 
 I helped him get through his monopoly bill 
 
 By methods and means that he wants to keep still." 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 71 
 
 And so he dips into the big public purse, 
 
 And losing, he plunges from bad luck to worse, 
 
 He pilfers and steals till at length he gets caught. 
 
 Does he go into prison as every thief ought ? 
 
 Not he, through his friend he's released on small bail, 
 
 And the next thing we hear, he to Europe sets sail, 
 
 Off on an excursion instead of to jail ! 
 
 This is a mere outline of what is going on 
 And of the nefarious things that are done, 
 Amongst those in power held closely together 
 By bonds — as one big thief is bound to another. 
 
 But factions of this sort can never wax strong 
 There is doubt and distrust through the group all 
 
 along, 
 The insurance big thieves give us lessons for aye. 
 To guard against wealth gained in this kind of way. 
 
SINCE WE BECAME A WORLD 
 POWER 
 
 WE are making hist'ry very fast, 
 But not our old exalted kind, 
 Since on imperial seas we're tossed, 
 We're made the sport of every wind : 
 We search for trouble near and far, 
 To see who'll dare our standard lower. 
 We act as if we itched for war, 
 Since we became " a world power." 
 
 Let's pause and see what we have done, 
 Since we threw off our " swadling clothes " 
 The fights we've fought, the battles won, 
 Who were and are, our friends and foes. 
 What human wrongs we have redressed. 
 In our Knight-errant rambling tour. 
 By whom we're cursed and by whom blessed, 
 Since we became ** a world power." 
 
 The time was ripe — the mounds of wealth 
 Amassed through aid of purchased laws, 
 Had undermined the public health 
 And for unrest was deepest cause. 
 The happy thought — a war with Spain 
 Would dissipate the gathering shower — 
 And trusts the needed time 'twould gain, 
 To fortify themselves in power. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 73 
 
 And so, the fatal die was cast, 
 The thought was father to the fact, 
 They struck the iron hard and fast, 
 Lest coolness might on them re-act. 
 Free, bleeding Cuba, was the cry. 
 They loudly raised that evil hour. 
 Uncaring who might Hve or die. 
 Were they but fortified in power. 
 
 When Congress had declared for war. 
 The Dewey fleet was at Hong Kong, 
 And 'though from home away so far, 
 The British told him, " move along," 
 He had his choice at once to go. 
 Or else the stars and stripes to lower ; 
 Strange way was this, to friendship show 
 Ere we became a world power. 
 
 Brave Dewey took the hint and left, 
 And sailed for fair Manilla Bay, 
 He made the voyage smooth and deft. 
 And got there by the dawn of day ; 
 The message he sent to explain 
 Was shot and shell in deadly shower ; 
 He pulverized the ships of Spain, 
 And we became a world power ! 
 
 Unlike our so-called '* British friends" 
 Who ordered Dewey ** get away ; " 
 The Filipinos made amends 
 And welcomed him to come and stay. 
 They gave him every aid they could, 
 Of their young men, the very flower 
 
74 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Quick volunteered to shed their blood, 
 To aid us as a friendly power. 
 
 Then England too forgot her frown, 
 
 She smiled upon us to our face ; 
 
 Though Pauncefoote tried to throw us down. 
 
 She boasted of the Saxon race : 
 
 That with the starry-Jack unfurled 
 
 Both could all seas and nation's scour, 
 
 And rule (for plunder), all the world 
 
 For now we were world power. 
 
 Joe Chamberlain came straight across 
 And told McKinley what to do ; 
 He said 'twould be the world's loss. 
 Did we a peaceful course pursue ; 
 The re-united Saxon race — 
 He said above all else would tower, 
 The world both could squarely face 
 Since we became a world power ! 
 
 And so McKinley grabbed the bait, 
 As his advisers bade him do ; 
 Urged on, and on by tempting fate, 
 Scarce knowing what he had in view ; 
 The Filipinos were betrayed. 
 Lest EngUsh " friendship " we should sour, 
 We've lost ten friends for one we made, 
 Since we became a world power ! 
 
 When England got us tangled in 
 The Filipino, cruel war, 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 75 
 
 At once herself did straight begin, 
 To slaughter and to rob the Boer. 
 But had she and the Boer been left 
 Unaided, rifle shot to shower. 
 The Boer had England's army cleft — 
 We saved her, as a world power ! 
 
 We sold her all sorts of supplies, 
 Which would be contraband of war. 
 Did we see with half opened eyes. 
 What all the mules and stuff were for; 
 From its high, bright, etherial plane. 
 Our flag to her's we had to lower — 
 We bought the Philipines from Spain, 
 To be with her a world power ! 
 
 And so the tragedy went on. 
 
 And so it's going on to-day. 
 
 Two young republics out have gone — 
 
 But England has the debt to pay ! 
 
 And we too, in the Philipines — 
 
 At our job-lot begin to cower ; 
 
 Halt ! Count the cost, in lives and means. 
 
 Since we became ** a world power f*' 
 
PRESERVE OLD CONSTITUTION 
 
 Air — Yankee Doodle. 
 
 " DONIE " came to Boston town, 
 
 1— ) To view old Constitution ; 
 To make her target — shoot her down, 
 
 He formed a resolution ; 
 But this aroused red patriot blood, 
 
 When put in circulation, 
 And " Bonie " since, its understood, 
 
 Has food for mediation. 
 
 Refrain. 
 
 Brave Uncle Sam won't let this man, 
 
 Work out his resolution, 
 John Bull alone would like his plan 
 
 To sink old Constitution. 
 
 Old Uncle Sam does not forget. 
 
 The Levant and Cyen-e ; 
 Nor how the grand old frigate met 
 
 And conquered the Guirer-e — 
 Those were sea fights that tried men's souls, 
 
 John Bull's ships in confusion. 
 Were sent ashore on rocks and shoals, 
 
 By staunch old Constitution. 
 
 Refrain. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 77 
 
 Built here and launched in Boston Town, 
 
 Here still Bostonians claim her, 
 Though Bonaparte says, shoot her down, 
 
 The English couldn't maim her; 
 No ship has sailed, near or remote. 
 
 More honor to a nation ; 
 Then, keep old Ironsides afloat. 
 
 For youth's high inspiration. 
 
 Refrain. 
 
PART TWO 
 
 VOLUME I 
 
LINES TO THE MEMORY OF 
 
 PATRICK A. COLLINS 
 
 ALL Boston is deeply o'erwhelmed with grief — 
 She has lost her great Mayor, — her people 
 
 their chief. 
 Not alone in the city — through Nation and State 
 And his dear Native Ireland, there's grief of such 
 
 weight. 
 That, political lines, — lines of creed and of race, 
 Are all wiped out so cleanly, there is left not a trace ; 
 With heart-felt regret, o'er his cold silent bier. 
 All, soulfully, prayerfully, drop a sad tear. 
 
 Yes ! Patrick A. Collins has gone to his rest : 
 His ambition in life was to make better, best ; 
 The task he assumed, he has faithfully done. 
 Life's battle is over — bright victory won. 
 Who can detract from his well-earned fame ? 
 Who — point a blemish or spot on his name } 
 The man isn't born that he ever deceived. 
 Nor the man that through /lis fault, was ever 
 aggrieved. 
 
 He stood firm as a rock for the right against wrong 
 With fairplay as his motto, through all his life, long — 
 For all that was good, against all low and mean, 
 With a soul and a conscience inherently clean. 
 
82 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Unshaded by semblance of envy or guile, 
 His wit, mirth-provoking, caused cynics to smile : — 
 Dame Nature — God's hand-maid, — through char- 
 acter ran. 
 Selecting high traits for this self-cultured man. 
 
 From whom much is given — much shall be required,'' 
 Did not Patrick Collins give what's here desired ? — 
 Faith, deep and abiding — good works — all through 
 
 life. 
 Love of God and of neighbor — of children and wife -. 
 Holding sinister, underhand methods, in scorn. 
 Hands as clean at his death, as the day he was born ; 
 He gave these^ and much more, of what to him was 
 
 given — 
 Faith, hope and good works, mark the pathway to 
 
 Heaven. 
 
 Our Lord having called the pure spirit He gave. 
 Kindly lay the remains in a Holyhood grave ; 
 There let them rest near the city he loved. 
 In the state where his words and his work stand 
 
 approved. 
 His native land Erin, is weeping today — 
 Yearning with this land, due homage to pay, 
 To the boy-genius, rudely exiled from her breast, 
 'Mongst the millions she gave, this great land of the 
 
 West. 
 
 I 
 
w 
 
 WELCOME TO DOUGLAS HYDE 
 
 Air — The Bells of Shandon 
 
 ITH bright hopes beaming, 
 Not sadly seeming, 
 Nor idly dreaming 
 
 But, through earnest toil ; 
 The, Irisii tongue, 
 Blooming fresh and young, 
 Is being writ and sung 
 
 On the Irish soil : 
 'T was, so long idle 
 Bound — bit and bridle, 
 It bore the title 
 
 Of tongue that died ; 
 Yet, 'twas but sleeping. 
 Or, vigil keeping, 
 'Till found while seeking. 
 By Douglas Hyde. 
 
 This great revival. 
 In matters lingual. 
 Has had no rival — 
 It is so grand, 
 'Twould seem designed. 
 By our Maker's mind, 
 
 *The old Irish language is coming back to the Irish people at 
 the same time they are getting back their land. The next step will 
 be Home Rule. 
 
84 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 The old tongue to find, 
 
 * To come with the land 
 
 He tried our patience, 
 With sore privations, 
 Through all vexations — 
 
 — Found true when tried : 
 So now to ease us. 
 He's going to please us — 
 Our tongue release us. 
 Through Douglas Hyde. 
 
 The proud invader. 
 And spoliator. 
 Denounced him traitor. 
 
 Who wouldn't yield 
 To his dictation — 
 Throughout the nation ; 
 No occupation 
 
 Could true-men shield : 
 The tongue then spoken, 
 Was English, broken 
 With scarce a token, 
 
 Of Irish pride, 
 But, now his bearla. 
 Gives place to gaelga ; 
 Biachs lath a Hierna ! 
 
 'Gus Douglas Hyde. 
 
 We Irish out-spread 
 Through all Creation 
 In every Nation 
 The Irish tongue : 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 85 
 
 Will be kept wagging 
 Not Idly bragging 
 Nor meanly nagging 
 
 'Bout evils done. 
 Our voices raising, 
 The Almighty praising, 
 Praying that His graces 
 
 With us abide — 
 Fond hearts requited, 
 By seas divided, 
 Will act united 
 
 With Douglas Hyde. 
 
 Here, president Roosevelt, 
 The welcome news felt. 
 His strenuous muse dwelt 
 
 On Irish lore ; 
 A people's language. 
 Released from bondage. 
 Free from brigandage 
 
 For evermore ! 
 Was, so appealing. 
 To his own square dealing, 
 His generous feeling 
 
 Was opened wide ; 
 From warm heart-beating. 
 He sent his greeting. 
 To have a meeting, 
 
 With Douglas Hyde. 
 
 To far-famed Boston, 
 Whence tyrants passed on, 
 
86 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Their last look cast on 
 
 Then stole away ; 
 When Washington, 
 Sent them on the run 
 By the rise of sun 
 
 On Saint Patrick's day : 
 For Erin's language, 
 Redeemed from bondage ; 
 A great advantage 
 
 To Erin's pride ; 
 We are glad we sought you, 
 In friendship brought you 
 Cead milla failte 
 
 Lath, Douglas Hyde ! 
 
LATEST VERSION OF THE 
 
 SHAN VAN VOCHT 
 
 OR 
 
 Queen Victoria's Recruiting Trip to Ireland 
 
 Air : The Shan Van Vocht 
 
 You have heard of old Queen Vic, 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht, 
 Her late capers make her sick 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht ; 
 In her war against the Boer, 
 Irish fools had suffered sore. 
 Then she came to get some more 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht. 
 
 'Twas a shameful sight to see, 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht, 
 
 After all she's done to me, 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht, 
 
 In no land beneath the sun, 
 
 Has such heartless things been done, 
 
 Since her cruel reign begun. 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht. 
 
 Away back in forty five, 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht, 
 
 (Its a woundher I'm alive) 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht, 
 
88 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 I had most two million sons, 
 Fit to march and shoulder guns, 
 But from home they had to run 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht. 
 
 In forty seven and forty eight, 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht, 
 
 England made a famine great. 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht ; 
 
 She took off her oats and whate, 
 
 Our sweet butther, eggs and mate 
 
 An left little we could ate 
 
 Says the Shan Vocht. 
 
 Vic did not come then nor send, 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht, 
 As a ruler or a friend. 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht ; 
 Hunger, sickness and despair, 
 You could feel them in the air, 
 But one rap she didn't care 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht. 
 
 When the filthy London Times, 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht, 
 Adding to its other crimes. 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht ; 
 Bragged how the Irish ran away, 
 "With a vengeance" day by day, 
 And prayed that they long might stay, 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht. — 
 
 This same heartless British Queen, 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht, 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 89 
 
 Though then young, was just as mean, 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht ; 
 
 She once never raised a hand, 
 
 But to send an armed band, 
 
 To evict them from their land, 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht. 
 
 So, for over fifty years. 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht, 
 I have scarcely dhried my tears, 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht 
 All those years they dhrove away. 
 My brave sons across the say. 
 But they want them bad to-day, 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht. 
 
 When the grand heroic Boer, 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht, 
 Frightened England to the core. 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht ; 
 They all, with their famine queen 
 Wore the outlawed Irish Green, 
 'Twas the quarest sight Fve seen. 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht. 
 
 'Twas chape blarney nothing more. 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht, 
 To get men to fight the Boer, 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht, 
 But although she lost her shame 
 My young men saw through her game, 
 And she went back as she came. 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht. 
 
90 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 There is freedom in the air, 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht, 
 England wallows in despair, 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht, 
 Though my sons are much reduced 
 Irish chicks come home to roost. 
 They'll give freedom yet a boost. 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht. 
 
 If Queen Victoria was the great queen she is represented to be, 
 in the silly slobber over her remains since her death, she could 
 have prevented the Boer war, she could have prevented the peri- 
 odical (English-made) famines in Ireland and India. One-fourth 
 of what it has cost to rob the Boers would have saved the millions 
 that have starved to death in India, not to mention the tremendous 
 loss of life. Well may she be called the famine queen of history. 
 
 In this ballad, Ireland is represented as a poor but proud old 
 woman who although robbed of everything, including her children, 
 still holds up her head and gives her reasons for refusing to aid 
 and assist her robbers in killing and robbing the Boers. 
 
SONG OF WELCOME 
 
 To Very Rev. Mons. O'Callaghan, on his return from a visit to 
 Ireland. 
 
 FROM that Isle where the hand of the stranger, 
 Has long dealt out direful distress ; 
 Whose rule has brought turmoil and danger, 
 
 Who curses where Heaven would bless : 
 From that land where 'midst sorrow and sadness, 
 
 Her sons hope for liberty soon, 
 With hearts full of joy and of gladness 
 
 We welcome you Soggarth Aroon ! 
 
 Chorus : 
 
 We bid you a cead mille faulthia. 
 
 You say by the signs which you saw. 
 
 That, soon we can toast a bright slaunthia 
 To freedom, in Erin-go-Bragh ! 
 
 What word from the long-drawn-out battle ? 
 
 Oh ! Can it be true what they tell ? 
 That people fare better than cattle ? 
 
 We saw them not treated as well ! 
 For their rights do they keep up insistence, 
 
 As firmly as when they begun ; 
 If so, they shall have our assistance 
 
 'Till Home-Rule with peace shall be won. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
92 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Are all Erin's people united, 
 
 Or do they keep bickering still ? 
 Great grievances never are righted 
 
 But by the majority will ! 
 To bury distrust and dissension 
 
 And yield to majority rule, 
 Is the honest unselfish intention 
 
 First taught in sweet liberty's school. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Send word to our brethren in Ireland, 
 
 That, though we were driven away, 
 No hearts beat more loyal to sireland, 
 
 Than our hearts are beating to-day. 
 Having tasted the blessings of freedom. 
 
 We beg them drop trifles that jar ; 
 Then, by all the signs as you read 'em 
 
 Their day of relief isn't far. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Let them not relax agitation 
 
 But keep at it '* hammer and tongs ; " 
 We — scattered through every nation, 
 
 Can well advertise Erin's wrongs 
 Once, England could work in a corner. 
 
 Her deeds to the world unknown. 
 But henceforth we solemnly warn her, 
 
 Her acts will be everywhere shown. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Again Very Reverend Father 
 
 With friendship sincere and galore, 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 93 
 
 Your friends and parishioners gather 
 
 To tender you welcome once more ; 
 
 Did all emulate your example, 
 
 Despite Johnny Bull's penal laws, 
 
 Soon Erin would show, for a sample 
 
 A code free from Sasanach flaws. 
 
 Chorus, 
 
THE OLD FENIAN'S ADDRESS TO 
 HIS NEW REPEATING RIFLE 
 
 BE-DAD you are a dandy piece 
 Your likes I never saw, 
 Right soon would Erin's trouble cease 
 
 Well rid of England's law, 
 If every whole-souled Irishman ; 
 (But not the crawling few ;) 
 Were bound to work the one true plan, 
 Each armed with such as you. 
 My pet, 
 Each armed with such as you ! 
 
 When first I learned to hit the mark 
 
 'Twas with an old Queen Anne, 
 With big flint-lock that struck a spark 
 
 To powder in the pan ; 
 But, human skill has been at work, 
 
 John Bull might well feel blue 
 If all, from Donegal to Cork, 
 
 Once owned a beaut, Uke you, 
 My pet. 
 
 Once owned a beaut like you ! 
 
 I have been listening all my life 
 
 To eloquence most grand, 
 'Bout ways and means to end the strife 
 
 In my loved native land ; 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 96 
 
 And now drawing near my closing days 
 
 I take a backward view ; 
 I see that tyrants mock old ways 
 
 But dread a crack from you, 
 My pet, 
 
 But dread a crack from you ! 
 
 The times are changing very fast 
 
 Invention's rising tide, 
 Makes what was best a few years past 
 
 Now, rubbish cast aside : 
 Electric shocks may yet, perhaps, 
 
 Displace the rifle too, 
 But 'till that day we Irish chaps, 
 
 Must learn to shoot with you, 
 My pet. 
 
 Must learn to shoot with you ! 
 
 In blood, the Boers have writ a page 
 
 Of glorious human history, 
 That points, in this inventive age. 
 
 The path to human liberty ; 
 They talk not much, but just enough 
 
 To make men dare and do ; 
 The bravest soldiers give least " guff," 
 
 They talk through such as you. 
 My pet. 
 
 They talk through such as you ! 
 
 You may, perchance, be rusty yet, 
 
 'Though now so bright and clean, 
 
 But while I live, my trusty pet, 
 No man shall use you mean : 
 
96 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Through your small bore there goes a pill, 
 Projected straight and true, 
 
 That bends the sternest tyrant's will. 
 Who'd bend alone to you, 
 
 My pet. 
 Who'd bend alone to you ! 
 
 I know your voice is hard and sharp 
 
 And dreaded by mankind ; 
 But musical as Erin's harp 
 
 On duty, well defined : 
 When rulers in this wondrous age. 
 
 Act bad as fiends can do ; 
 The common people must engage 
 
 Strong pleaders such as you, 
 My pet. 
 
 Strong pleaders such as you ! 
 
 I don't advise to kill a fly 
 
 Through malice or through spite ; 
 But, wholesale robbers when they try. 
 
 Like burglars in the night, 
 The people's hard-earned wealth to loot 
 
 And tax them for it too ; 
 Then, every man should learn to shoot. 
 
 And own a piece like you. 
 My pet. 
 
 And own a piece like you ! 
 
 Peaceful agitation has 
 
 Been tried time-out-of-mind. 
 
 But every gain effected was 
 By means of another kind ; 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 97 
 
 England likes peace measures well, 
 
 Talk tells her what to do, 
 But dreads, the world now can tell, 
 
 To face the likes of you, 
 My pet, 
 
 To face the likes of you ! 
 
 Then, Irishmen each other trust. 
 
 Drop all dissension nowy 
 A man to raise a crop, at first 
 
 Must dig, or hold the plow : 
 So, if you'd reap fair Freedom's fruit, 
 
 The proper thing to do. 
 Is ; get a rifle ; learn to shoot. 
 
 As I am doing with you. 
 My pet. 
 
 As I am doing with you ! " 
 
HAIL TO THEE, ERIN 
 
 HAIL ! to thee Erin, bright Isle of the sea, 
 Thy children in all lands turn fondly to thee ; 
 Wherever we wander, though distant we roam, 
 We lovingly hail thee our dear island home : 
 'Though the heel of the tyrant may tread on thy 
 
 breast, 
 And force off thy children who love thee the best ; 
 Unchanging we cherish wherever we be. 
 Next to service of God, fond affection for thee. 
 
 Hail ! to thee Erin, bright Isle of the sea, 
 'Though thou art in bondage thy children are free ; 
 Free from murder for plunder, from arson, from fraud, 
 In a word, from the crimes thy oppressors applaud. 
 For freedom of conscience and worship we stand, 
 Not only for thee, but for every land ; 
 You taught us dear Mother, wherever we go, 
 To brand every tyrant as liberty's foe. 
 
 Hail ! to thee Erin, when God sees the time, 
 
 To rid thee of sasanach bondage and crime ; 
 
 A glorious sight to all mankind 'twill be. 
 
 To see thee contented, blest, happy and free. 
 
 Thy children for centuries sorely oppressed. 
 
 Will spring from their chains as if rising from rest. 
 
 With love for all mankind, with malice for none ; 
 
 Then, and not until then, can thy grandeur be shown. 
 
EMMET'S GRAVE 
 
 Written for and read at the Emmet Centennial Anniversary 
 Supper given by the Montgomery Associates, Waltham, March 4, 
 
 1878. 
 
 Far from our native home to-night, dear brothers, 
 we have met, 
 What drove us from our native land, we never can 
 
 forget ; 
 But though three thousand miles from home, our 
 
 hearts are o'er the wave, 
 And linger long and lovingly 'round Robert Emmet's 
 grave. 
 
 Six millions of our kindred have been scattered o'er 
 
 the earth, 
 And some six millions more are in the land that gave 
 
 them birth ; 
 And all this mighty multitude at home or off afar, 
 Tonight will look to Emmet's name, as to a guiding 
 
 star. 
 
 They'll rally 'round the Old Green Flag, that flag he 
 
 loved so well. 
 And stories of his grand career exultingly they'll 
 
 tell ; 
 Indignant thoughts will flush the brow, of all except 
 
 the slave. 
 To think the tomb is uninscribed that stands o'er 
 
 Emmet's grave. 
 
100 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 What is it keeps our native land bound down in ser- 
 vile chains ? 
 
 It is not lack of energy nor is it lack of brains; 
 
 'Tis want of unity alone, dear Erin, keeps thee so, 
 
 Bound hand and foot, and crushed beneath thy heart- 
 less English foe. 
 
 Then let us all in spirit, visit Emmet's grave to-night, 
 And following his example, bury self deep out of 
 
 sight ; 
 For a more disinterested heart, our Maker never 
 
 gave, 
 Than the noble gen'rous, manly heart, that rests in 
 
 Emmet's grave. 
 
 Let's kneel down on that hallowed ground and raise 
 
 our hands on high. 
 And there record a solemn vow, to conquer, or to die ; 
 And mean must be that Irishman, a poltroon and a 
 
 knave. 
 Who will refuse to make such vow o'er Robert 
 
 Emmet's grave. 
 
 Oh ! could our gallant Emmet now arise up from his 
 
 rest. 
 And see the star of liberty that's rising in the east. 
 How eagerly he'd grasp his sword, unheeding toil or 
 
 pain, 
 He'd freely risk his noble life for freedom once again! 
 
 But though he's gone, we still have those on whom 
 we can depend. 
 
 Men built from firm unflinching stock that ne'er was 
 known to bend ; 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 101 
 
 Persevering, energetic, vigilant and brave, 
 They'll soon write Emmet's epitaph and place it o'er 
 his grave. 
 
 Exhortation. 
 
 Ye men of Irish blood and brains, 
 Why lie so still in servile chains ? 
 Behold your native hills and plains 
 In the hands of the tyrant stranger ! 
 Then, why so idly fold your arms ? 
 Prepare for hostile loud alarms. 
 Those who would win fair Freedom's charms, 
 Must never think of danger. 
 
 The scourge, the rack, the chains, the tears, 
 The lies and insults, scoffs and sneers, 
 Of seven hundred weary years, 
 
 We've hoarded like a treasure ; 
 And Oh ! may Heaven speed the day, 
 And send us too, the means and way, 
 This most enormous debt to pay, 
 
 With full unstinted measure. 
 
 Look o'er the earth, through every clime. 
 Look back to the earhest dawn of time, 
 You'll find extolled in prose and rhyme. 
 
 Those patriots and sages ; 
 Who never from tyrants turned aside, 
 Who have for freedom fought and died, 
 Their country's boast, the world's pride. 
 
 They'll live through endless ages. 
 
102 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 And, in that temple built for Fame, 
 High up, Oh ! Emmet is thy name, 
 Thy country's pride, proud Albion's shame, 
 
 The world knows thy story ; 
 Those yet unborn, will love thee well, 
 With flashing eyes thy fate they'll tell. 
 When England's crimes look black as H-U ! 
 
 Thy fame will shine in glory ! 
 
T 
 
 THERE'S A BRIGHT GLEAM 
 OF HOPE 
 
 Air — Garryowen. 
 
 HERE'S a bright gleam of hope 'mongst the 
 people of Earth, 
 An out-burst of joy and of heart-raising mirth, 
 Of sadness and sorrow a notable dearth. 
 
 Peace is made between two warring Nations. 
 All mankind stood awe-stricken, deeply in doubt 
 That peace loving Teddy could bring it about ; 
 But now all re-echo a sky-piercing shout 
 
 For his foresight, his tact and his patience. 
 
 REFRAIN. 
 
 Then, hurrah for brave Teddy, who never knew 
 
 fear, 
 To fight he is ready, when peace isn't near. 
 All now know he's steady and truly sincere, 
 The world's high pacificator. 
 
 The Czar his high prestage and pride to defend 
 Was fully determined to fight to the end. 
 The Mikado — victor, of course wouldn't bend 
 
 To be the first peace supplicator. 
 Then, Teddy by planning the way to release 
 The heavenly messenger — white dove of peace, 
 
 108 
 
104 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Bidding hell-born war and its carnage to cease, 
 Became the world's peace educator. 
 
 Refrain. 
 
 When the coal barons 'rose in their arrogant pride, 
 With the law and the courts and vast wealth on 
 
 their side, 
 And boastfully popular protest defied, 
 
 Then, Teddy first played mediator. 
 Some thought him too easy, some thought him too 
 
 rough, 
 Some said it was merely political bluff ; 
 But now all believe he's the right kind of stuff. 
 The world's fair-play propogator ! 
 
 Refrain. 
 
 There's a war nearer home, old, aye hoary from age,* 
 Fanned by religious rancor and plundering rage. 
 Employing such weapons as fiends would engagef 
 
 To persecute God-loving people. 
 Here a great mediator, experienced and wise. 
 For a square-dealing peace, long deferred, can arise 
 A peace, making this one look small in men's eyes. 
 'Twould be rung out from belfry and steeple. 
 
 Refrain. 
 
 * The war that England has forced on Ireland for over seven 
 centuries. 
 
 t See Wendall Phillip's lecture on Daniel O'Connell. 
 
ANSWER TO THE HARP THAT 
 ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALL 
 
 THAT Irish harp that hangs asleep, 
 On Tara's honored wall ; 
 Soon time to freedom's notes shall keep, 
 
 Responsive to her call ; 
 Then shall be heard such magic strains. 
 
 As ne'er were heard before ; 
 When landlord graft and castle chains 
 Are heard of never more. 
 
 If not to chiefs and ladies bright, 
 
 The Irish harp notes swell ; 
 For all the people's keen delight. 
 
 Will answer just as well ; 
 Fair freedom too, is wide awake, 
 
 'Round Erin'a sea-girt shore ; 
 And tyranny begins to quake, 
 
 As ne'er it did before. 
 
 Those " hearts that once beat high for praise," 
 
 Pulsated not in vain ; 
 In foreign lands, o'er many seas. 
 
 That pulse is felt again : 
 Here, in fair freedom's cradle land. 
 
 Where liberty was born ; 
 Their kith and kin, in forefront stand 
 
 And highest ranks adorn. 
 
LINES TO THE MEMORY OF 
 
 GEORGE FRISBY HOAR 
 
 Written for, but not ready at, the A. O. H. Memorial Meeting in 
 Faneuil Hall, 
 
 OBEDIENT to duty — at gratitude's call, 
 We have met here to-night in Old Faneuil Hall ; 
 A deep debt of honor and homage to pay 
 To one who too soon has been summoned away. 
 
 No need for laudation — no call for loud praise ; 
 
 His story is written in truth's shining rays ; 
 
 Can poet, or painter, or sculptor do more 
 
 Than point to the life-work, of George F'risbie Hoar ? 
 
 An attempt to describe or recite as it ought ; 
 His record, in any one, high line of thought ; 
 Would fall so far short of his splendid career, 
 T' would make highest tribute, ludicrous appear. 
 
 Then, all who love truth and untrammelled fairplay, 
 Join with A.O.H. in his homage to-day. 
 Who would be true patriots, need do no more, 
 Than tread in the paths marked by George Frisbie 
 Hoar! 
 
 In this age of graft and of scheming for pelf, 
 When the rule — not exception — is, each for himself ; 
 The whole trust graft-grabbers with all their vast store; 
 Would be light in the balance 'gainst George Frisbie 
 Hoar. 
 
KEEP UP ERIN'S CAUSE 
 
 Dedicated to President Roosevelt — Peace Maker 
 
 Why may he not, as representative of Uncle Sam, call a halt in 
 the ruthless war of spoilation and extermination for centuries 
 waged against the Irish people by John Bull — Uncle Sam's would 
 be ally and friend, invoking a " square deal " for faithful, uncon- 
 querable, long-suffering Ireland. 
 
 Air — RoRY O'More 
 
 KEEP up Erin's cause — it has come to us down 
 For ages the conflict of highest renown ; 
 Eight centuries striving to get a " square deal " 
 Fires each generation with patriot zeal 
 Keep up the great strife, Uke our father's before, 
 The longer the contest, we love it the more ; 
 As a legacy handed from father to son. 
 It's more sacred to-day, than the day it begun ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Then, Irishmen — brothers — wherever we be, 
 In all foreign lands — or this land of the free, 
 Let us all stand together with patriot zeal, 
 And gain for our land a Rooseveltian deal. 
 
 Our peace-loving President — wonderful man ! 
 Made peace between Russia and fighting Japan ; 
 He now can consistently follow his hand, 
 And peace for old Erin can by him be planded. 
 A war for extortion and all that's unjust. 
 Enforced emigration, and all things accursed 
 
108 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Has been waged on Erin for centuries past ; 
 Brave, square-dealing Teddy can end it at last. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 John Redmond has proved himself fitted to lead, 
 In personal courage and practical deed ; 
 In intellect brilliant, in language subUme, 
 He has been well chosen the man for the time. 
 Let all Erin's sons, as she proudly demands. 
 Stand firmly behind him and strengthen his hands ; 
 Then, with one great turn of the popular wheel, 
 We'll wring from John Bull a Rooseveltian deal ! 
 
 Chorus, 
 
 Keep up the good work — long and sad are the years 
 Since forced from our dear native country in tears. 
 But distance or time does not weaken our love. 
 Nor our hate for the tyrants that forced us to move. 
 How little they thought, when they drove us away. 
 We'd stand as hindrance before them some day — 
 While Erin is forced to wear tyranny's chain 
 John Bull will seek Uncle Sam's friendship in vain ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Though fault-finders haggle and tyranny frown, 
 Keep up Erin's cause — let it never run down. 
 Her bright torch of liberty, always aflame. 
 Adds laurels anew to her historic fame. 
 Let's always her high public spirit maintain, 
 Till she, disenthralled, can come forward again. 
 The nation that God had designed her to be. 
 Like America — Land of the Brave and the Free ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 
ANSWER TO THE WEARING OF 
 THE GREEN 
 
 Air — The Wearing of the Greem 
 
 SAY, have you heard the joyous news borne here 
 on every gale ? 
 It comes from dear old Erin, sent by brave old 
 
 Granuwale ! 
 Saint Patrick's Day now well they keep, in Ireland 
 
 all 'round, 
 The Shamrock, too, is free to grow on every foot of 
 
 ground. 
 The ghosts of Napper Tandy, Robert Emmet and 
 
 the rest 
 Who gave their lives for Ireland, still hover o'er her 
 
 breast. 
 The manly bearing they inspire can on each face be 
 
 seen ; 
 No more shall men and women hang for the wearing 
 
 of the green, 
 
 No more shall any Irishman bow down an abject 
 head ; 
 
 No longer must he cringe and fawn, and wear the 
 English red. 
 
 And here, in greater Ireland, across the foamy sea 
 
 The Irish race to God alone bend down the suppliant 
 knee. 
 
 When England drove us from our homes, with heart- 
 less tyrant hand, 
 
 Uft 
 
110 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 To seek a mother's welcome in a free and friendly 
 
 land ; 
 She dreamt not that the day would dawn, or ever 
 
 could be seen, 
 When England's cruel red would pale before the 
 
 Irish green. 
 
 And now this word of warning to old Johnny Bull we 
 
 send : 
 Before he can have Uncle Sam as ally or as friend ; 
 The Irish must own every foot of Erin's shamrock 
 
 sod, 
 And bend the knee to no landlord, but to the Lord 
 
 their God. 
 When Johnny Bull will cease to play the "bloomin' " 
 
 tyrant fool. 
 And yields all this to Ireland, and with it full Home 
 
 Rule. 
 That day, perhaps, but not till then, may Uncle Sam 
 
 be seen, 
 In treaty with the English red against the Irish green. 
 
 ENCORE VERSE. 
 
 If Uncle Sam desires to expand his wide domain, 
 
 Why go to far-off Philippines and purchase them 
 of Spain ? 
 
 Why slaughter Filipinos who their country but 
 defend. 
 
 And pass long-suffering Erin, where they'd hail him 
 as a friend } 
 
 All Sam would there require would be simply ways 
 and means, 
 
 A tenth of all he squandered in the far-off Philip- 
 pines. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 111 
 
 r There isn't in all Ireland an Irishman so mean 
 As not to fly the stars and stripes beside the flag 
 
 J of green, or 
 
 Sam wouldn't meet an enemy in Erin's Isle at all, 
 They'd fall in line from rebel Cork to " fardown " 
 Donegal ! 
 
MY BREIDEEN COTHA MOHR* 
 Air — **Pad the Road with Me." 
 
 In my boyish days in Ireland, a man was not considered " well 
 clad " unless he owned a " great coat " or cotha mohr, which was 
 usually made of frieze. This frieze is manufactured from fleece 
 wool, no waste nor shoddy being used, and is very durable, and 
 literally water-proof. He who spun the song has spun and woven 
 this frieze in the little Isle so green, and landed on these shores in 
 1854, with a suit of Irish tweed and Irish frieze of his own manu- 
 facture, though not quite twenty-two years old. 
 
 SOME poets sing 
 On airy wing, 
 Of knights and ladies fair, 
 
 Bedecked so fine, 
 
 Witii gems that shine, 
 And raiment rich and rare. 
 
 My homely theme 
 
 To such may seem 
 Beneath poetic lore, 
 
 For I'll relate 
 
 The virtues great, 
 Of my Breideen cotha mohr. 
 
 This coat of mine 
 Is not so fine 
 As other coats I've seen ; 
 But this I know. 
 When frost and snow, 
 
 « My f reize great coat, 
 lis 
 
 I 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 118 
 
 Have covered o'er the green, 
 
 As miles I flee, 
 
 My love to see, 
 Dear Mauria, gal masthore ! 
 
 There's no room for cold 
 
 Beneath each fold 
 Of my Breideen cotha mohr. 
 
 To experienced eyes 
 
 This Irish frieze 
 Is much like Irish men ; 
 
 The staple's long 
 
 The fibre stong. 
 No shoddy mixed therein ; 
 
 Well fulled and pressed, 
 
 It warms each breast 
 What mortal ever wore 
 
 A coat like this, 
 
 But felt the bliss 
 Of a Breideen cotha mohr ? 
 
 Men high in state 
 
 Make efforts great, 
 In striving after fame ; 
 
 Alternately 
 
 They're doomed to see 
 Joy, grief, remorse and shame 
 
 Not so with me, 
 
 Howe'er I be, 
 I still have joy in store ; 
 
 My Mauria bawn 
 
 At dusk and dawn. 
 And my Breideen cotha mohr. 
 
114 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 The puny dude, 
 Who would intrude 
 
 Fox-hunting English style ; 
 His mopish stare 
 And mawkish air 
 
 Cause men of sense to smile. 
 By ill-gained wealth 
 And misspent health, 
 
 He's sickly to the core ; 
 He never knows 
 The mirth that flows 
 
 'Neath a Breideen cotha mohr. 
 
 In my native land, 
 
 Dear Ireland, 
 Injustice still remains ; 
 
 Then shall not we, 
 
 In liberty. 
 Assist to rend her chains ? 
 
 'Till the day I die, 
 
 I'll strive, I'll try 
 Her freedom to restore ; 
 
 For her I'd pawn, 
 
 Tomorrow morn, 
 My Breideen cotha mohr. 
 
 Then hurrah for 
 Charles Parnell, 
 
 And for Michael Davitt, too ; 
 For each hero grand 
 Who showed his hand. 
 
 Since the days of Brian Boru ; 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 116 
 
 When we, who here 
 
 No tyrants fear, 
 Do as these did before ; 
 
 I'll dance with glee 
 
 Such sight to see. 
 In my breideen cotha mohr. 
 
SLIGO TOWN 
 
 Written Christmas Day, 1872. 
 
 Air — "The Dawning of the Day." 
 
 T WAS born in dear old Ireland, and I lived there 
 
 -■■ twenty years, 
 
 Since reason dawned I've always keenly felt her 
 
 hopes and fears, 
 Oh ! many a time I sadly think of the hour I sailed 
 
 away, 
 From Sligo town that lies so snug at the foot of 
 
 Knocknarae. 
 
 I love old Ireland all around the north, south, east 
 
 and west. 
 But who can blame me if I love that dear old town 
 
 the best ; 
 'Twas there that first my infant eyes beheld the Hght 
 
 of day, 
 Near Sligo town that lies so snug at the foot of 
 
 Knocknarae. 
 
 Though far away across the main in spirit oft I roam, 
 Around the hills and valleys of my dear old native 
 
 home, 
 For many a pleasant day I spent ere I crossed o'er 
 
 the sea. 
 When I'd go down to Sligo town at the foot of 
 , Knocknarae. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 117 
 
 The green fields of Ardcummer and the groves of 
 Cooper's hill, 
 
 Keash and Geevah, too, does very oft my mind's eye 
 fill; 
 
 Lough Arrow's stream that glides along, in fancy oft 
 I see, 
 
 Near Sligo town that lies so snug at the foot of 
 Knocknarae. 
 
 Fresh in my mind I always find kind thoughts of 
 early youth, 
 
 Of boys and girls with whom I played in innocence 
 
 and truth ; 
 The old school-house and chapel where we learned 
 
 and used to pray, 
 All, all comes flashing through my mind when I 
 
 think of Knocknarae. 
 
 I never forget the day I started off from Riverstown ; 
 I never forget the friends who came with me to Sligo 
 down ; 
 
 I never forget the long last look from the top of 
 Cautheen's brae. 
 
 At Sligo town that lies so snug at the foot of Knock- 
 narae. 
 
 I love my dear adopted land, I love it as my life ; 
 I love it dearly as I love my children and my wife ; 
 But who can blame me if I love old Ireland far away. 
 And Sligo town that lies so snug at the foot of 
 Knocknarae. 
 
 Oh ! Irishmen, you have the brightest, dearest land 
 
 on earth. 
 Why don't you rise Uke men and free the dear land 
 
 of your birth, 
 
118 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Unite the orange and the green, unfurl it right away, 
 Let it float on high 'neath my native sky on the top 
 of Knocknarae. 
 
 The fervent dying prayer of Allen Larkin and 
 
 O'Brien,— 
 " God bless and save old Ireland," shall evermore be 
 
 mine ; 
 May freedom, peace and happiness increase from day 
 
 to day. 
 In Ireland all 'round and in Sligo town at the foot of 
 
 Knocknarae. 
 
DEAR ERIN 
 
 Air — Colleen dhas Crutha-na-mo. 
 
 DEAR Erin, though deep is thy sorrow, 
 Bonds never can sully thy fame. 
 From thy glorious past thou canst borrow, 
 
 A ray to illumine thy name ; 
 And though freedom should nevermore bless thee 
 
 Whatever thy future may be, 
 Though tyranny grind and oppress thee. 
 My heart shall beat fondly for thee. 
 
 I love the great land I reside in. 
 
 The home of the free and the brave, 
 Her bright starry banner I pride in, 
 
 O'er freemen, Oh ! long may it wave ; 
 But when thy green flag all unfurled. 
 
 Shall float o'er a land blest and free. 
 Thou wilt then be the pride of this world. 
 
 And my heart shall beat proudly for thee. 
 
 When thy son's 'neath one banner united. 
 
 Shall bid their cursed bickering cease, 
 Their union will soon be requited, 
 
 With victory, freedom and peace ; 
 When the shackles which bind thee are riven, 
 
 And I once see thee happy and free, 
 I'll bequeath then my spirit to Heaven, 
 
 And my heart, beloved Erin, to thee. 
 
GOD BLESS THE GOOD OLD IRISH 
 BROGUE 
 
 Suggested by the words of Rev. Father Reardon, St. Joseph's, 
 Roxbury, Jan. 7, 1900. 
 
 " /^^ OD bless the good old Irish brogue " 
 Vj God bless and rest the men who spoke it, 
 Amongst their sons it's now in vogue, 
 To make coarse puns and sneer and joke it : 
 Not many are this way inclined — 
 A recreant few, for still, the many. 
 Are men of manly heart and mind. 
 Who think their sires the best of any. 
 
 'Tis true those brave old Irishmen 
 Were not well up in English grammar. 
 But who on earth could meet them when, 
 They swung the shovel, pick or hammer ? 
 In every kind of useful work. 
 They always got the hardest places. 
 Yet, never were they known to shirk 
 Or on a pull, slack up the traces. 
 
 Although they spoke the Irish brogue 
 
 And England drew their hate upon her. 
 
 No Irish cad or dudish rogue 
 
 Could ever charge them with dishonor. 
 
 They lost all else, but kept the faith. 
 
 Pure, fervent, unadulterated, 
 lao 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 121 
 
 They never drew a doubting breath 
 Nor Holy Church once underrated. 
 
 They fled from all they held most dear, 
 From home and kindred, friend and neighbor, 
 To many lands — but chiefly here 
 Is seen the fruit of Irish labor. 
 Yet some think they should not repeat 
 What with their eyes they saw in Ireland ; 
 How England took their oats and wheat, 
 With famine stalking through the Island. 
 
 When stern rebellion's lifted hand, 
 Determined to disrupt this Nation, 
 None like the sons of Ireland 
 Fought for the Union's preservation. 
 On every battle-field and flood. 
 The old green flag and starry banner. 
 Were torn, while wet with Irish blood, 
 But never lowered in dishonor. 
 
 And then, the Irish Colleen dhas. 
 The Irish daughter, wife and mother ; 
 She spoke the brogue, but went to mass, 
 No matter what might be her brother : 
 Strong, tender-hearted, generous, pure, 
 God, Country, kindred, her ambition ; 
 What other woman could endure 
 To fill her place in each position ? 
 
 God bless the rich old Irish brogue, 
 
 God bless all those by whom 'twas spoken, 
 
122 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 The stagey slang that's now in vogue 
 Gives of their character no token ; 
 The Irish who so love to toil 
 Or fight, when toil or fight is wanted, 
 'Twas these — transplanted on this soil 
 The faith St. Patrick deeply planted. 
 
CEAD MILLE FAULTHIA LATH 
 SOGARTH AROON. 
 
 Air — Father O'Flynn. 
 
 Complimentary to Very Rev. Canon White, on his visit to 
 Boston, Mass., U. S. A. Respectfully dedicated to the ladies of 
 St. Cecilia's Parish and of the Gaelic School who took such active 
 practical interest in Father White's labor of love and charity for 
 the persecuted people of Lough Glynn on the De Freyne estates. 
 
 DEAR Sogarth Aroon we are thankful you came 
 to us, 
 Let us use you while here, so, you'll give a good 
 
 name to us 
 If not by my word it will be a great shame to us. 
 Then, Cead Millia Faulthia lath Sogarth Aroon ! 
 We have read the sad news from Roscommon Lough 
 
 Glynn, 
 Where women and children and feeble old men, 
 Are roughly evicted 
 And sorely afflicted 
 By Landlord De Freyne that cold Anglicized coon. 
 By the signs of the times, this same Landlord De 
 
 Freyne, 
 May find his evictions, was labor in vain. 
 He'll be so restricted 
 That those he evicted 
 Will get back their homes near you, Sogarth Aroon. 
 
 But Sogarth Aroon, when you go back to Ireland, 
 Take back this word to a// men of our sireland. 
 
124 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Tell them drop party feuds, for a broader and higher 
 
 land 
 All standing together, dear Sogarth Aroon ; 
 Tell them, be not of each other afraid, 
 Let each stand with all and let all give their aid, 
 
 Then in union and peace 
 
 All dissension will cease 
 No more shall be heard the old discordant croon. 
 When all shall in honor ; for justice unite 
 No power on this earth can long cheat them of right, 
 
 Then Erin's old fame 
 
 Will emerge from all shame 
 Bright, beamingly, beautiful, Sogarth Aroon. 
 
 Tell them the first thing to look for, is unity 
 (The bed-rock of every progressive community.) 
 Then watch and prepare for the grand opportunity, 
 If signs don't deceive 'twill present itself soon. 
 Tell them that liberty cannot be won 
 Except when the people can handle a gun. 
 
 And we Irish who fight 
 
 In all lands for what's right 
 Should stand once together ; dear Sogarth Aroon, 
 To buy back our land that was taken by force. 
 Though not what it should be, dissension is worse, 
 
 While if all firmly stand 
 
 We will get back our land 
 And with it sweet liberty too ; will be won. 
 
 Then Ireland's people will not feel ashamed of her 
 Then, then they can wipe out the lies, that were 
 named of her 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 126 
 
 When the vast wealth that so long had been drained 
 
 from her 
 Shall remain with her : 'twill raise her from gloom, 
 Then shall the real Irish this wide world o'er, 
 Desire to see their lost country once more 
 Her fair face redeemed 
 From what long had but seemed 
 A bondage to last till the great day of doom ! 
 Her people at home will show 'twasn't neglect 
 That made some for toil show deserved disrespect 
 But because what their toil 
 Had just won from the soil 
 Was taken by force from them, Sogarth Aroon ! 
 
 Oh ! then how I'd like just to view the old land 
 
 again ! 
 Oh ! how I'd like on her green hills to stand again ; 
 To hear the sweet notes of her singing birds, grand 
 
 again. 
 The sky-lark, and thrush and the linnet in tune. 
 More joyful than all will ring out the sweet chime 
 Of bells calling worshipping people on time 
 
 To altars as free 
 
 From Lough-Glynn to the sea. 
 As any beneath the bright sun or the moon. 
 Then shall Canon White's new sweet chime in Lough 
 
 Glynn 
 Respond to the rest a sonorous amen ! 
 
 If we cannot be there 
 
 We will get his heart's prayer 
 And Christ's benediction from Sogarth Aroon ! 
 
THE SONS OF THE GAEL. 
 
 A New Song to an Old Air. 
 
 I'LL sing a new song to my brothers to-night 
 Of the different phases of wrong and of right 
 Let us practice the right in whatever we do 
 And all that is wrong firmly cease to pursue 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 When every true brother 
 
 Will stand by each other 
 The schemes of our foes to divide us will fail ; 
 
 We have found out at length 
 
 That in union is strength 
 Hand in hand is the word with the Sons of the Gael. 
 
 If foreign invasion should threaten this land 
 What race like the gael would so loyally stand ; 
 Whoever our bright starry flag would assail 
 Must settle accounts with the Sons of the Gael. 
 
 Chorus, 
 
 Behold what's being done upon Africa's plain, 
 The work of John Bull would old Beelzibub stain ; 
 Every nation on earth to do right should arise 
 And blow every land pirate clear to the skies. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 127 
 
 The cowardly world looks timidly on, 
 While darkest of deeds are enacted by John ; 
 But as slaves make the tyrant the wide world o'er 
 John Bull won't long tyranize over the Boer. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 For they stand by each other 
 
 Like brother by brother 
 The schemes of Jonn Bull to divide them did fail ; 
 
 They have shown us at length 
 
 That in union is strength 
 May we find out the same in the Sons of the Gael. 
 
 Then brothers awake in your manhood and pride, 
 
 Cast every excuse for dissension aside 
 
 Be ready if dear mother Erin shall call 
 
 To strike for her rights not a faction but all. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 On things not essential its pleasant to see, 
 That we can like others at times disagree ; 
 But when vital principles foes dare assail 
 Then comes the grand test of true Sons of the Gael. 
 
 Chortis. 
 
FROM ANTRIM TO CORK 
 
 38NMP 
 Old Irish Air. 
 
 I HAVE heard many songs from the bards of old 
 Erin, 
 In praise of some section or valley or hill, 
 Or strongly denouncing the shackles they're wearin. 
 Against every tr?ie-h\ooded Irishman's will. 
 I myself wrote a song for my dear native Sligo, 
 Such kindly remembrance is laudable work, 
 But, henceforth my theme will be, wherever I go, 
 On all Ireland's people from Antrim to Cork. 
 
 There once was a time — not so long ago either, 
 We had here some talk 'bout Far-upsand Far-downs, 
 But thanks be to God, we have all come together, 
 -And hear when we meet no such discordant sounds ; 
 While foreign land-grabbers first rob, then deride us. 
 By lies which if true would shame even a Turk, 
 We have vowed before Heaven no more they'll divide 
 
 us. 
 We will stand altogether from Antrim to Cork. 
 
 Dissension is all that we need be ashamed of, 
 On all other lines we may rightly feel proud ; 
 Low soul-smearing vice, we have rarely been blamed 
 
 of, 
 — We have minor feelings it must be allowed ; 
 
 128 
 
 I 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 129 
 
 But taking all things into consideration, 
 
 F'rom close observation we never need shirk ; 
 
 No people on earth pushed from high to low station, 
 
 Could stand it as we have, from Antrim to Cork. 
 
 Now Antrim and Cork must closer together. 
 Their people can meet though the hills cannot move, 
 Let Orange and Green meet and vow that forever 
 Hereafter, they'll meet, but in friendship and love. 
 The feuds that divide us must all be forgotten. 
 Too long have they done our arch-enemy's work ; 
 Let's bury those feuds that already are rotten, 
 And stand for all Ireland from Antrim to Cork. 
 
 Then come to my bosom my dear doubting brother, 
 In willing response to sweet Liberty's call. 
 To stand up as one for dear Erin, our Mother, 
 We solemnly promise in presence of all. 
 Not one word henceforth to awaken resentment ; 
 No discordant hint, nor unkindly remark, 
 Let us enter to-day, on an age of contentment. 
 From Dublin to Mayo — from Antrim to Cork. 
 
B 
 
 A PATRIOTIC APPEAL 
 
 Irishman, at home or abroad ; of every class and creed. 
 
 RAVE sons and fair daughters of Erin's green 
 isle, 
 
 I earnestly ask your attention awhile, 
 At home in the old land or here in exile, 
 
 Or anywhere else in creation — 
 Wherever on earth you sojourn or reside, 
 I appeal to your honor and national pride. 
 Your feuds in the graves of your ancesters hide, 
 Unite and make Ireland a Nation. 
 
 As sensible men ask yourselves does it pay, 
 To see your brave countrymen driven away 
 Year after year, and day after day. 
 
 Doomed to meet degradation and danger ; 
 Wasting their blood, and their sinew, and bone, 
 Fighting for every land but their own. 
 Whilst dear beloved Erin from whence they have 
 flown. 
 
 Is crushed 'neath the heel of the stranger ! 
 
 That a few may be'pampered by power and place, 
 A nation is buried down deep in disgrace, 
 A warm-hearted, high-minded, generous race 
 
 Is trampled upon and kept under. 
 Yet, the religious frenzy which some of us feel, 
 Or bigotry, often mistaken for zeal. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 131 
 
 Makes us scoff at the measures and men that would 
 heal 
 The dissensions which keeps us asunder. 
 
 Oh ! Almighty Creator who holdeth in hand 
 
 The fate and the fortune of every land ; 
 
 Thou has given us grace our privations to stand, 
 
 With manly and calm resignation ! 
 Our hearts' lightest hopes are still centered in Thee, 
 That thou wilt make Erin '' great, glorious and free. 
 First flower of the earth, and first gem of the sea," 
 
 A grand and prosperous nation. 
 
 Then down with dissension, drive discord away, 
 On each hill-top the flag of our country display, 
 Set the twelfth of July and St. Patrick's day* 
 
 Aside, to be told of in story ; 
 But the day that all sects and creeds will unite. 
 And shoulder to shoulder prepare for the fight 
 That day will be always kept honored and bright. 
 
 As the birthday of Ireland's glory. 
 
 *St. Patrick's day should be observed as a day of religious 
 devotion not for revelry or political parades. Still less should 
 the twelfth of July be observed by Irishmen in any form. 
 What's wanted in Ireland is a day that all creeds and all classes 
 can unite on in peace and harmony, to work shoulder to shoulder 
 and hand in hand for the restoration of their own language and 
 the upbuilding of an out-and-out Irish Ireland. The first step to 
 intelligent and permanent Home Rule. 
 
IRISH EXPANSION 
 
 OH ! Erin lovely motherland, cast mourning weeds 
 aside, 
 Cease long-time lamentation — sing a mother's song 
 
 of pride. 
 Since wide expansion has become a mark of highest 
 
 fame 
 In forefront of the nations must be placed your 
 
 honored name ! 
 If people make a nation — and this claim has been 
 
 allowed, 
 Then, Erin hold your head up — you have reason to 
 
 be proud, 
 When all the high achievement of your children can 
 
 be seen. 
 Among enlightened nations you will be the chosen 
 
 queen. 
 
 Refrain. 
 
 For, scattered wide and far. 
 Your children though we are ; 
 We honor love and bless you mother Erin ! 
 
 What other race of people has there lived beneath 
 
 the sun 
 That could outhve the tyranny your children have ? 
 
 not one ! 
 Instead of their extinction as the tyrant deeply 
 
 planned, 
 
 132 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 133 
 
 It but caused their emigration to most every foreign 
 
 land. 
 Your tyrant neighbor proudly boasts — the sun sets 
 
 not upon, 
 Her world-wide possessions — but, her forces once 
 
 withdrawn ; 
 Her mercenary minions would be driven from each 
 
 shore, 
 While foreign countries prize your children, daily 
 
 more and more. 
 
 Refrain. 
 
 The arrogance of power, and the blandishments of 
 
 wealth 
 All the wily, sly, temptations of the serpents' slimy 
 
 stealth. 
 Have been up before your children almost everywhere 
 
 they be. 
 Yet, they very rarely waver, in their love of God and 
 
 Thee! 
 Then raise your head with honor 'mongst the nations 
 
 of the earth 
 Though you have lost your children of true friends 
 
 you have no dearth 
 Wherever they have settled, they have made for you 
 
 a friend, 
 While England hasn t one to-day , on whom she can 
 
 depend ! 
 
 ^Rejrain. 
 
o 
 
 MICHAEL DAVITTS SOLILOQUY 
 IN PORTLAND PRISON 
 
 H dear mother Erin, 
 It matters not where in 
 This wide world I'm placed, I can never forget 
 Thy green hills and valleys. 
 Where in youth's earnest sallies 
 My playmates and friends I good-naturedly met ; 
 The green dasied spot, 
 Near the old rustic cot 
 Where my parents, though poor, lived in peace years 
 ago. 
 
 Where with youth and coy maid 
 I oft gleefully played. 
 In the old town of Straide, in the county Mayo. 
 
 And though humble our dwelling. 
 
 My eyes they are welling, 
 I feel my heart swelling when I think of the day 
 On which with short warning. 
 
 One cold, wintry morning, 
 All righteousness scorning, they turned us away ; 
 
 I heard the earth rumble, 
 
 When the roof down did tumble, 
 I saw the walls crumble 'neath many a blow. 
 
 'Twas soon in ruins laid. 
 
 By the crowbar brigade, 
 In the old town of Straide, in the county Mayo. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 185 
 
 Ere I turned from the scene, 
 
 I knelt down on the green 
 And prayed a just God to disclose unto me, 
 
 When grown to a man, 
 
 The most feasible plan 
 To transplant here a sprig of sweet liberty's tree. 
 
 My prayer has been granted ; 
 
 The tree has been planted, 
 And all those who wanted its virtues to know, 
 
 Already find aid 
 
 'Neath its wide growing shade. 
 Which has spread out from Straide, o'er the county 
 Mayo. 
 
 In bog, brake and highland, 
 
 All o'er the green island, 
 The tree I have planted has taken deep root ; 
 
 The soil seems to suit it ; 
 
 No storm can uproot it. 
 The people have tasted its life-giving fruit ; 
 
 Though confined in this cell. 
 
 It is planted so well 
 All the demons of hell cannot harm it, I know ; 
 
 For no man is afraid 
 
 When beneath that tree's shade. 
 Which I planted in Straide, in the county Mayo. 
 
 That Michael Davit was the founder of the Irish Land League 
 is well known to those who took an active part in that great move- 
 ment for the amelioration of the conditions of the Irish people. 
 
 After a visit to this country during which he outlined his plan 
 of campaign to prominent Irish Nationalists and received their 
 entire approbation of said plan with promises of unlimited support 
 morally and financially, he opened the agitation by holding his 
 first meeting on the ruins of his boyhood home in the village of 
 Straide in the County Mayo. 
 
186 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 How the Land League spread out all over Ireland and America 
 is so well known, it is unnecessary for the introduction of these 
 simple verses to recite at any length the numerous incidents of that 
 grand and highly moral and elevating agitation. 
 
 When it had broadened out so as to become a National move- 
 ment Michael Davitt turned over the leadership to Charles Stewart 
 Parnell and became one of the latters most trusted lieutenants and 
 advisers. 
 
 In his desire to unite the whole Irish people in this grand Na- 
 tional movement, Davitt visited Belfast and made speeches to the 
 Orangemen and was warmly and cordially received. 
 
 This did not suit Dublin Castle " Buckshot " Foster the Secre- 
 tary for Ireland saw that if the Orangemen once fell into line with 
 their countrymen England's hold on Ireland would be materially 
 weakened if not entirely lost, so detectives were sent after Davitt, 
 he was apprehended, spirited away to Portland prison in the heart 
 of England, his ticket of leave was withdrawn, and he was con- 
 demned to serve the unexpired year of his sentence of fifteen 
 years. This is how England rewards an Irishman who tries to 
 make peace between warring factions in Ireland. 
 
 It was at this time and under these circumstances I wrote 
 " Michael Davitt's Soliloquy in Portland Prison." 
 
WILLIAM REDMOND'S WELCOME 
 
 I. 
 
 WELCOME William Redmond from old Erin's 
 lovely shore, 
 What news is there from Ireland ? 
 What hope is ihere for Ireland ? 
 Will England's cruel conduct keep her crushed for- 
 ever more ? 
 Or, will some grand upheavel come, and all her rights 
 restore ? 
 
 Refrain. 
 
 All Irishmen together stand — cast ancient feuds 
 away 
 
 Together, for old Ireland 
 For God and for our Motherland 
 If you would see, loved Erin free, begin the work 
 
 to-day ; 
 Be men — be friends — be Irishmen — show Ireland 
 fairplay. 
 
 It's a positive disgrace for all great nations of the 
 earth. 
 
 To stand and see old Ireland 
 Gen'rous faithful Ireland, 
 Trampled on, her children, crowded out and driven 
 
 forth ; 
 The mark for English slanderers, the but of English 
 
 mirth. 
 
 Refrain. 
 
138 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Race suicide in Erin ? Yes, but it's England's burn- 
 ing shame, 
 
 Her's is that racial suicide 
 Her sailor, soldier suicide, 
 'Twas Ireland's sons that gained for her, most all she 
 
 had of fame 
 If to-day they are against her she has but herself to 
 blame. 
 
 Refrai7i. 
 
 Twice welcome William Redmond, stay with us a 
 year or two. 
 
 Stay here in great America, 
 In happy proud America ! 
 Pass Ireland's grinding grievances once more in 
 
 review, 
 Consult with great Americans and plan out what to 
 do. 
 
 Refrain. 
 
 There are some wealthy Irishmen amongst us here, 
 but they 
 
 Forget down trodden Ireland, 
 Their native home, their motherland ! 
 With few exceptions, wealth but makes them closer 
 
 every day 
 Consult with all Americans, true lovers of fair play. 
 
 Refrain. 
 
 Thrice welcome William Redmond, they can find a 
 man for Clare 
 
 To sit in England's parliament 
 That long out-dated parliament ; 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 139 
 
 You'd do more good in one year here, than twenty- 
 five years there, 
 
 Stay here, paint Irelands grievances and she'll be 
 treated " square." 
 
 Refrain. 
 
 Consult our noble president he'll meet you like a 
 man ; 
 
 He is no party's president ! 
 He's every freeman's president ! 
 He just worked out a manly peace 'twixt Russia and 
 Japan, 
 
 He ca7i make peace for Ireland, he II do it if he can ! 
 
 Refrain. 
 
WILLIAM REDMOND^S WELCOME 
 II. 
 
 WILLIAM REDMOND, you're welcome across 
 the Pacific, 
 It's a round-a-bout way from oldErin's green shore, 
 But if you have brought us news somewhat specific 
 Of Erin's bright prospects, you are welcome the more ; 
 You went a long journey, to far-off Australia, 
 To tell the conditions in dear motherland — 
 Your brethren from Erin, off there didn't fail you, 
 It was, cead mille faulthia, on every hand. 
 
 If nations of people grow great by expansion — 
 (And power and importance are measured that way) 
 What nation on earth ruled from palace or mansion 
 Can match Erin's greatness and grandeur to-day ; 
 William Redmond would you visit all your relations, 
 'Twould be many a year ere your journey was done ; 
 Driven out — they took refuge in all foreign nations, 
 Both friendly and unfriendly, under the sun. 
 
 Expansion of lands over wide swelling oceans. 
 Does not constitute a great nation, alone ; 
 The people of all lands, have different notions. 
 Every people on earth have some fad of their own ; 
 But Erin's brave sons, and her beautiful daughters, 
 Wherever they wander — wherever they roam 
 In far foreign lands, over turbulent waters, 
 Unite in their love, for their dear native home. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 141 
 
 With decrepit army and out-of-date navy — 
 
 John Bull has been ogling brave uncle Sam ; 
 
 Beginning to feel that his load is too heavy, 
 
 He's using his flibbergib methods of flam ; 
 
 But knowing well his tricks, we know how to expose 
 
 him. 
 His agents have here but their work for their pains ; 
 We'll openly, earnestly, always oppose him, 
 While Erin clanks, one galling link of his chains. 
 
 Some men with lip service profess love and loyalty — 
 
 In union alone, all can loyalty prove ; 
 
 When her tyrants through hate, have united with 
 
 royalty. 
 Let all Erin's friends — be united in love * 
 William Redmond once more a warm cead mille 
 
 faulthia 
 And when you get back to old Erin's green shore, 
 Toast all Erin's children and Erin, a slauntha, 
 From heart-loving friends that may see them no more. 
 
 Then why shouldn't Erin feel highly elated. 
 
 Though holding no foot of this broad earth at all ; 
 
 She has allies galore, to her closely related. 
 
 In every land on this great earthly ball. 
 
 No army, no navy, no land, no dominion, 
 
 No taxes to levy or gather when due 
 
 Yet, the fulcrum and lever of public opinion 
 
 Is doing for her now what all these couldn't do. 
 
 *'Twas fate they'll say, a wayward fate, 
 
 Our web of discord wove, 
 And while our tyrants joined in hate, 
 
 We never joined in love. 
 
 Tom Moore. 
 
MOTHER ERIN 
 
 OH ! Spirit of liberty, come to my aid 
 While singing these verses to Erin, 
 For sweet as the task is, I'm somewhat afraid 
 If thy spirit my task does not share in, 
 For, who can her paint as God meant her to be ? 
 The fairest of islands that sit in the sea ! 
 While chastest and bravest wherever they flee 
 Are your daughters and sons, Mother Erin ! 
 
 Though millions were driven away from your shore 
 
 Of your daughters and sons. Mother Erin, 
 
 Time and distance make true hearts but love you the 
 
 more 
 And detest the vile chains you are wearin'. 
 The millions so ruthlessly driven away 
 Are gaining in numbers and strength every day ; 
 They will spring to your aid at your tyrants' dismay 
 From all parts of the earth, Mother Erin. 
 
 In far off Australia, very few have grown cold 
 'Mongst your daughters and sons. Mother Erin, 
 There, hundreds of thousands untramelled by gold 
 Your cause would at once interfere in. 
 In England herself and in Canada, too. 
 There are thousands of hearts beating loyal to you, 
 Who would dare do whatever the bravest would do. 
 Of your daughters and sons, Mother Erin ! 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 143 
 
 Here in America, land of the free ! 
 
 Or, sometimes 'tis called — '* Greater Erin " — 
 
 In liberty's light, we thy children can see, 
 
 More clearly the wrongs you are bearin'. 
 
 The tyrant who robbed, and then forced us to fly. 
 
 Or like other millions remain, starve and die, 
 
 Will find us a unit conclusions to try 
 
 With him, for your sake. Mother Erin ! 
 
 Encore verses. 
 
 His wiliest work is being done through this land 
 
 To get Uncle Sam in a tangle. 
 
 But Irishmen too well his wiles understand. 
 
 We'll meet him at every angle. 
 
 The treaty he sighs for, he'll try for in vain ; 
 
 We exposed him before, we'll oppose him again. 
 
 So long as one link of his coercion chain 
 
 Shall clank on thy limbs, Mother Erin ! 
 
A SONG IN ENGLISH FOR AN 
 IRISH IRELAND 
 
 FROM that land long despoiled by oppression 
 (For which she soon hopes for redress) 
 Whose law-makers g^ave her coercion 
 
 That cursed her, where Heaven would bless, 
 From that beautiful Isle of the ocean 
 
 The fairest the sun shines upon ; 
 We have learned with heartfelt emotion 
 The day of her thraldrom has gone. 
 
 The news that comes to us from Erin 
 
 Shows freedom is fast making gains. 
 Those who, English fetters liked wearin' 
 
 Now, chafe at the clank of her chains ! 
 They are learning the old language steady — 
 
 Such reflex it o'er them has cast ; 
 They all, in great measure already 
 
 Have buried the feuds of the past. 
 
 (Foul feuds that the scheming oppressor. 
 
 Fomented and financed and nursed ! 
 Since Erin became their possessor 
 
 She has been divided and cursed). 
 They fling back the false accusation. 
 
 More galling than tyranny's chains ; 
 That the cause of their Isle's subjugation 
 
 Was, lack of executive brains. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 145 
 
 No more shall the sweat of the toiler, 
 
 Be spent to help tyranny's game ; 
 That the conscienceless heartless despoiler, 
 
 May revel in riotous shame. 
 The resources of civilization 
 
 Long claimed by the tyrant alone ; 
 Her people show strong inclination 
 
 To seize and to make them their own. 
 
 We send back this message to Erin, 
 
 From every intelligent club. 
 And from every organization 
 
 Both female and male in the Hub. 
 From every Hibernian meeting 
 
 (Renouncing past envy and spleen) 
 Our heart's warmest greeting entreating 
 
 That orange unite with the green. 
 
 The day both declare independence, 
 
 From Sectarian hatred and spite ; 
 That day's beaming beauteous resplendence, 
 
 Will radiate liberty's light. 
 Then, under one united banner, 
 
 Let each with his brethren vie 
 In earning the world's high honor 
 
 For Erin s Grand Fourth of July ! 
 
SONG OF THE ANCIENT ORDER 
 OF HIBERNIANS. 
 
 Air — " Marching Through Georgia." 
 
 HIBERNIANS, Ancient Order Men, true children 
 of the Gael, 
 Sit not in silent sorrow our past troubles to bewail. 
 Demand that love and unity 'mongst Irishmen pre- 
 vail. 
 For God and beloved Mother Erin. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Awake ! arise ! send forth the stern demand. 
 Awake ! arise ! henceforth together stand. 
 Resolve to drive dissension from our outraged Mother- 
 land 
 And free our beloved Mother Erin. 
 
 We have been long deluded by false promises galore. 
 
 Made us when England wanted troops, smashed when 
 her fight was o'er. 
 
 She's fooled us far too often she will fool us never- 
 more : 
 
 Erin must have Home Rule, or Freedom ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 I appeal to every Irishman whatever be his creed, 
 To drop sectarian feeling, 'till our country has been 
 freed, 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 147 
 
 The end will justify the means and consecrate the 
 
 deed, 
 That makes beloved Ireland a nation. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 The generous Irish heart is warm through evil and 
 
 through good, 
 The man who thinks of self alone, is not of Irish 
 
 blood ; 
 The selfish few are foreigners let this be understood ; 
 The agents of the sassanach invader. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Men answer for their religion to God the Lord alone, 
 Then where did our Creator tell us fight against our 
 
 own } 
 It's by the foreign enemy the seeds of strife are sown, 
 Not by your generous children, Mother Erin ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 England could not hold us down but for a noisy few, 
 When they get in their work she then at once knows 
 
 what to do. 
 If she has no coercion law she grinds one quickly 
 
 through. 
 To barricade the only way to freedom. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Then, let all Irish, Irishmen with A. O. H. unite. 
 And for an Irish Ireland join in the glorious fight. 
 Against the common enemy who bring but crime and 
 
 blight 
 And make all Erin's people one great Nation ! * 
 
148 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 * It is people that make a nation not land or factories, ships or 
 commerce. By the coercive, restiictive policy of the English gov- 
 ernment or misgovernment of lieland; the Irish people became 
 the greatest or one of the greatest nations of the world. For 
 
 " Wherever they have settled, there old Erin has a friend 
 While England hasn't one to-day on whom she can depend." 
 
PART THREE 
 
 VOLUME I 
 
SONG OF THE HOLY NAME 
 
 Dedicated (fraternally) to the Holy Name Society. 
 
 NUMEROUS are the associations, 
 Spread out broad-cast o'er the nations, 
 With new-fangled declarations, 
 
 Something wonderful to find — 
 Some get organized for pleasure, 
 Some, to gain and hoard-up treasure 
 These attained in fullest measure 
 Do not satisfy the mind. 
 
 They but fill it with desire. 
 Much does always more require, 
 As the piling coals on fire 
 
 Makes a bigger, hotter blaze 
 So, the mind of man keeps yearning. 
 Longing, wishing, sighing, mourning, 
 Scarcely ever once discerning. 
 
 What's the cause of all the craze. 
 
 What is the cause of all this yearning. 
 Mankind is so slow in learning. 
 So obtuse in not discerning .? 
 
 'Tis the hungering of the soul ; 
 For, what all earth's hoarded treasure, 
 All its joys and all its pleasure. 
 Poured out in unbounded measure. 
 
 Cannot purchase nor control. 
 
U2 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 But we, banded here together, 
 To inspire and help each other, 
 As true brothers do a brother 
 
 To a higher, safer plane — 
 When we, all our sins confessing 
 Get the absolution blessing, 
 And our Lord himself possessing — 
 
 Then our souls their longing gain ? 
 
 Brethren then, let us endeavor, 
 By our Christian-like behavior. 
 To adore our Holy Savior, 
 
 And our order raise to fame ! 
 In our ardor never ceasing, 
 Virtue gaining, sins releasing, 
 Ever in our love increasing 
 
 For our Savior's Holy Name ! 
 
 Ours — A faith that's worth believing, 
 Points a life that's worth the living ; 
 Gives instruction worth receiving 
 
 Candid, simple, truthful, plain ! 
 Points the paths we have to tread in 
 Rules to earn our daily bread in, 
 And the lines our lives well led in. 
 
 Everlasting life to gain. 
 
GIVE ME, O LORD! THE WILL 
 AND STRENGTH 
 
 GIVE me, O Lord ! the will and strength 
 To keep from sin and shame ; 
 Give me the grace my whole life's length 
 
 To ble^s Thy holy name ! 
 I thank Thee for this pleasant home 
 
 Exempt from fuss and strife 
 I thank Thee for, 'mongst what may come, 
 My gentle, loving wife. 
 
 Thou' St given me so many gifts. 
 
 For three score years and more ; 
 The thought of Thee my soul uplifts, 
 
 When I would else feel sore. 
 I've been ungrateful in the past, 
 
 But, Lord, I humbly pray. 
 Forgive me, and while life shall last 
 
 I'll bless Thee night and day. 
 
 Sometimes I have been sorely pressed 
 
 With sad domestic pain 
 But thanks to Thee I have been blessed 
 
 From anger to refrain 
 And now in my brief closing days 
 
 Let all my efforts be 
 Employing in Thy love and praise. 
 
 Faith, Hope and Charity ! 
 
A CHRISTMAS PRAYER 
 
 FOR YOUNG AND OLD 
 Dedicated to the Holy Name Society. 
 
 INFANT Jesus — heavenly child ! 
 Make my temper meek and mild, 
 My conscience clean and undefiled. 
 
 Infant Jesus — while a youth, 
 Guide me in the path of truth 
 From false paths and fads, uncouth. 
 
 Infant Jesus — when a man. 
 Aid me to work out life's plan 
 If not first best — the best I can ! 
 
 Jesus — when, in years, I'm old, 
 Keep me safe within the fold, 
 Keep my heart from growing cold. 
 
 Infant Jesus — when comes death. 
 Thy grace surround me like a wreath 
 Jesus — lisp my latest breath ! 
 
RESIGNATION 
 
 " O the depth of the riches, of the wisdom and of the knowledge 
 of God 1 How incomprehensible are his judgments, and how 
 unsearchable his ways!" — St. Paul. 
 
 WE bless Thee Lord, for all Thy ways ! 
 Thy wondrous ways shall ever be 
 The theme of our most ardent praise ; 
 We pray Thee evermore to raise 
 Our minds, our hearts, our thoughts to Thee ! 
 
 When tribulation marks our path 
 
 And makes the prospect dark and drear ; 
 
 We know it is our sins, that hath 
 
 Awakened, Thy paternal wrath 
 
 And then we feel, that Thou art near. 
 
 When our possessions melt in air, 
 
 As dew before the morning sun ; 
 
 Let us with resignation bear 
 
 The losses we cannot repair, 
 
 And humbly say, '* Thy will be done ! " 
 
 When those we prized the most on earth 
 
 Are summoned suddenly away ; 
 
 A gloom is cast o'er home and hearth, 
 
 A bar on every joy and mirth. 
 
 And all our pleasures pass away — 
 
156 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 *Tis then we feel the chastening rod, 
 'Tis then we humbly bend the knee 
 To Thee, our Father and our God ; 
 We quit the wayward paths we trod, 
 And haste confidingly to Thee. 
 
 And falling down before Thy face, 
 With humbled brow and hearts contrite ; 
 We ask Thee Lord that Thou replace 
 Us, in Thy love and in Thy grace. 
 Through Him who died on Calvary's height ! 
 
 We bless Thee Lord for all Thy ways ! 
 
 Thy wondrous ways shall ever be 
 
 The theme of our most ardent praise ; 
 
 We pray Thee evermore to raise, 
 
 Our minds, our hearts, our thoughts to Thee ! 
 
SAINT ANTHONY'S PARISH 
 Allston, Mass. 
 
 Dedicated to Very Rev. Father Tracy, Missionary Apostolic- 
 Pastor of Saint Anthony's Parish, Allston, and to his Reverend 
 Assistants, Fathers Kelliher and MacNamarra, and to the Holy 
 Name Society. Written on the eve of Saint Anthony's Day, 
 June 12, 1904. 
 
 THE people of Blessed Saint Anthony's parish 
 In zeal are increasing, in serving the Lord, 
 The pastors, their people most lovingly cherish, 
 That all may receive high, eternal reward ; 
 The homage they preach to the name of our Savior 
 Has grown and spread out, in a wonderful way, 
 'Twas seen in the Holy-Name member's behavior, 
 Receiving their Holy Communion to-day. 
 
 The people in turn, love and cherish their pastor 
 Beloved Father Tracy, who would not approve ? 
 His zeal in the work of his Heavenly Master 
 Warms cold, wayward hearts to God's mercy and love ; 
 He has just led us through a most pious novena. 
 Nine days of devotion, deep, earnest, sincere — 
 Throughout one's whole life very few ever seen a 
 Devotion, so sweet, as that now closing here. 
 
 The women of Blessed Saint Anthony's parish 
 A noble example have given the men, 
 Which, if the men practice, religion will flourish ; 
 God's blessing and grace will abide with us then. 
 
158 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 The virtues of blessed Saint Bridget of Erin, 
 
 Can yet in the daughters of Erin be seen ; 
 
 How sweet will the fruit be, these virtues are bearin', 
 
 When prayerfully practiced by women and men. 
 
 There are ominous sighs, not at all re-assuring, 
 War, death, and disaster are heard of all round ; 
 The pent-up resentment, that some are enduring 
 Break out now and then with a turbulent sound : 
 But here, priests and people — the cross as our 
 
 standard, 
 In peace with all mankind — in charity pray 
 For all who from Faith and their duty have wandered. 
 As in the novena just ending to-day. 
 
 Oh ! blessed be the name of our dear Lord and 
 Savior, 
 
 God bless our loved pastors who honor his name, 
 
 God bless the brave men who will henceforth en- 
 deavor * 
 
 To make desecration a popular shame ! 
 
 Though frail be our efforts, the Lord in his mercy 
 
 Who knows best our weakness, will answer our 
 prayer. 
 
 Presented so earnestly by Father Tracy ; 
 
 Addressed to our Lord in Saint Anthony's care. 
 
 *The Holy Name Society. 
 
A RHYMING REVIEW OF THE 
 CHALLENGE CUP 
 
 Dedicated to Thomas Lipton, a true Irish sportsman. 
 
 TWO-and-fifty years ago 
 On August twenty-second, 
 The world saw that Uncle Sam 
 Had accurately "retkoned." 
 
 That he could lift the Challenge Cup, 
 (A challenge proud and high) 
 
 Sent by John Bull of Swagger full- 
 Sam picked up John's defy. 
 
 He sent his yacht America 
 
 Across to take a hand, 
 And show what Yankee skill could do 
 
 To so-called ''Motherland." 
 
 John Bull put on his broadest smile, 
 Slapped both his thighs and laughed 
 
 At Uncle Sam, to send across 
 Such " rakish looking craft." 
 
 Sam also ** smoled " a knowing smile, 
 
 And said ** as in the past ; 
 Between us John, he laughs the best 
 
 Who waits and laughs the last." 
 
160 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 The great event proved Uncle Sam 
 Was then, as always right ; 
 
 The craft John laughed at, fooled all his 
 And left them out of sight. 
 
 So this is how Sam took the cup, 
 Which plainly goes to show, 
 
 Britania has not " ruled the wave " 
 Since fifty years ago. 
 
 It has been saved so often since 
 
 The cup is highly prized, 
 It's with us fifty years or, more 
 
 And has been naturalized. 
 
 Eleven times John did his best 
 
 To " lift " the cup away, 
 But somehow yet that souvenir 
 
 Preferred with us to stay. 
 
 From Cambria to Shamrock third, 
 All met with square defeat, 
 
 The past is known ; but who can tell 
 What Sam is going to meet ? 
 
 Shamrock third has come across 
 
 A sprightly craft is she 
 Tom Lipton says she'll "lift" the cup 
 
 As handy as can be. 
 
 Well ; if the cup is ever going 
 
 Away from us at all ; 
 Some milUons would not shed a tear 
 
 To see it go this fall. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 161 
 
 For Lipton is a sportsman true, 
 
 He is no " Ravin " Lord ; 
 Not one word has he ever said 
 
 To cause or raise discord. 
 
 A man of generous impulse he, 
 
 In honor brave and bold ; 
 (As every Irishman should be) 
 
 A rank they love to hold. 
 
 True sportsman then would build new yachts, 
 
 To bring the cup this way ; 
 Of interest, there would be lots 
 
 Aroused, and brought in play. 
 
 If ever we can have such race 
 
 On Irish seas 'twill be, 
 For Erin soon can shozv her face 
 
 Her la7id and people free ! 
 
 AFTER THE RACE 
 
 Well, once again Tom Lipton failed 
 
 To *' lift " that heavy cup, 
 Yet some say he may try again, 
 
 He'll hate to give it up. 
 
 But should he try no more, we can, 
 
 Say this, with accents true ; 
 He has proved himself a manly man 
 
 From every point of view. 
 
THE IRISH SERVANT GIRLS OF 
 BACK BAY 
 
 M 
 
 ADAM nature works so well 
 Blood is always sure to tell ; 
 And where can blood of purity be found, 
 So exclusiuely as free 
 From all taint in pedigree, 
 As among full-blooded Irish clean and sound. 
 
 In each truly Irish face 
 High intelligence, finds place, 
 
 Virtue's inborn stamp won't wear away ; 
 Pure blood-true faith combined. 
 Give a Heaven directed mind, 
 
 Such as bless the Irish girls of Back Bay. 
 
 It was not (to Erin's pride) 
 
 The curse of race suicide. 
 That caused her population to decay ; 
 
 England's cruel rule and laws 
 
 Were and are the only cause, 
 That made servants for the wealthy of Back Bay. 
 
 What a robbery of race 
 (To old England's deep disgrace) 
 It was to send these girls far away. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 163 
 
 And the young men of their age 
 Who in wedlock would engage 
 The noble Irish girls of Back Bay. 
 
 As the men from Erin's land 
 Hardest, strenuous tests withstand, 
 
 So Irish girls command the highest pay. 
 They with female tact and grace 
 Fill, to please, each high-toned place, 
 
 Among the cultured wealthy of Back Bay. 
 
 Since I left old Erin's shore 
 I have met none here-to-fore — 
 And this, I in sincerity can say. 
 
 For the highest meed of merit 
 And for sterling Christian spirit 
 To excel the Irish girls of Back Bay. 
 
THE SECOND BRITISH INVASION 
 OF CONCORD 
 
 OR 
 
 The March of the A. P. A. Brigade 
 
 T 
 
 'WENTY miles, twenty miles, twenty miles on- 
 ward ! 
 
 Out on the Fitchburg train, rolled the ** twelve 
 hundred." 
 
 Loud cried the great Dunbar, 
 
 As he stepped from the car ; 
 
 'Tention the bold brigade ! 
 
 Is there a man afraid ? 
 
 In through old Concord town. 
 
 With firm step and haughty frown ; 
 
 Loyal to queen and crown 
 
 Marched the '^ twelve hundred ! " -^ 
 
 We are told that in days of yore, 
 
 Concord was claimed before, 
 
 By an army of British — some seven or eight hun^ 
 dred ; 
 
 Who with guns and leaden shot. 
 Made things rather hot ; 
 
 * Be actual count 385 individuals took part in the second British 
 invasion of Concord. But the " truthful " stark of the press com- 
 mmte multiplied the number to " twelve hundred " 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 165 
 
 But more than they gave, they got — 
 — Got the eight hundred ! 
 
 Minute-men right of them, minute-men left of them, 
 Minute-men front of them, sprung on them unnum- 
 bered ! 
 
 They ran back as best they could. 
 Through brake and tangled wood ; 
 Back through fair Lexington, 
 Back down to Charlestown, 
 They straggled back one by one ; 
 Back throngh that valley of death, 
 With nothing left, but their breath ; 
 The Britishers got back — but not the eight hundred ! 
 
 This new British A. P. A. ; 
 
 Resolved to avenge the day, 
 
 When their " bloomin dads " ran away. 
 
 Scattered and sundered ! 
 Their leader the great Dunbar 
 Sent command near and far ; 
 Let nothing your ardor mar ! 
 Fill ye each railroad car ! 
 
 Fully '* twelve hundred ! " 
 
 Grand were the plans he laid ! 
 Was there a man dismayed? 
 Double quick march ! he said — 
 While Concordians wondered ? 
 " March on the double quick ; 
 Shoot down each Pat and Mick ; 
 It may, once more, raise old nick — 
 Onward '' twelve hundred ! " 
 
166 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Boys to the right of them, boys and girls left of them, 
 Farmers each side of them all of whom wondered — 
 
 Wondered what was their game. 
 
 Who they were — whence they came, 
 
 Wondered at great Dunbar, 
 
 Who, since he left the car, 
 
 Strode like a shooting star, 
 
 With nothing his march to mar, 
 Leading " twelve hundred ! " 
 
 Flashed they their pistols out. 
 Flashed, as they wheeled about ; 
 Oh ! how the boys did shout, as pistol shots thun- 
 dered ; 
 
 Just then the truthful stark. 
 Took snapshots in the dark ; 
 In the journal he made his mark 
 
 With pictures encumbered ! 
 Showed the bold march they made 
 How they marched back unscathed. 
 With trophies of their grand raid 
 
 Gallant ** twelve hundred ! " 
 
 Who shall their glory tell ? 
 Men who had marched so well ! 
 Back they went all pell mell — 
 Back from old Concord town, 
 Back with regained renown, 
 Back on the Fitchburg train. 
 Each to his home again. 
 Without e'en a scratch or pain 
 All the " twelve hundred ! " 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 167 
 
 Who'll praise the great Dunbar, 
 The A. P. A. shooting star, 
 Sound his praise near and far 
 He led the " twelve hundred ! " 
 
THE LION AND THE BOER 
 
 Air : The Peeler and the Goat. 
 
 THE British lion red with gore, 
 From many a raid of plundering, 
 Ran up against a sturdy Boer, 
 
 Whose daring set him wondering. 
 He'd met such animals before, 
 
 They used to be afraid of him. 
 So he 'gan to berate the Boer, 
 
 And this is what he said to him : 
 
 Lion. 
 
 " My queen has sent me here, you know,' 
 
 To claim her suzerainty, 
 Give in, or I will strike a blow. 
 
 That soon will cure your vanity, 
 Joe Chamberlain and Salisbury, 
 
 Have told me to disarm you, sir, 
 And if to this you don't agree, 
 
 I'll be obliged to harm you, sir. 
 
 Boer. 
 
 You need not fret, nor fume, nor roar, 
 Nor shake your mane so gory, sir. 
 
 You had a scrap with me before, 
 
 That brought you little glory, sir, 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 169 
 
 The Lord is just, I trust in Him, 
 
 He knows my cause is pure and sound, 
 
 I'll crush and tear you limb from limb, 
 If you come on my hunting ground. 
 
 Lion. 
 
 Just come to terms, sir, right away, 
 
 I've told my queen Victoria 
 That I will dine on Christmas Day 
 
 Despite you, in Pre-to-ria. 
 From every land beyond the sea. 
 
 My troops will come if you resist, 
 E'en Yankees sympathize with me. 
 
 Those who have turned Imperialist. 
 
 Boer. 
 
 I know your purpose, sir, full well, 
 
 So you do not alarm me, 
 Like Erin you'd make this a hell, 
 
 Could you but once disarm me. 
 I've gold and diamonds here galore. 
 
 You'd like for your nobiUty, 
 But mark this one word from the Boer, 
 
 You have not the ability. 
 
 Lion. 
 
 You tried to have me arbitrate. 
 
 At one time I agreed to it. 
 But you're so small and I'm so great, 
 
 I won't, there is no need of it. 
 The Orange Free States too must come. 
 
 And yield to me instanter, sir. 
 
170 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Or else I'll try (you know) dum dum, 
 And whip you in a canter, sir. 
 
 Boer. 
 
 Your threats and warnings I despise, 
 
 They serve but to enlighten me, 
 You think because I'm not your size, 
 
 By bluffing you can frighten me, 
 Before my rights you take away, 
 
 To plume your pride and vanity, 
 " The enormous price you'll have to pay. 
 
 Will stagger all humanity ! " 
 
 The Boer then turned him round about, 
 
 And issued a most earnest call. 
 When all the Boers came trooping out, 
 
 A mauser clutched by large and small. 
 They handled them them with so much skill. 
 
 So accurate and limberly, 
 They cooped up all they didn't kill, 
 
 In Ladysmith and Kimberly. 
 
 So, with his tail between his thighs. 
 
 The lion wines that used to roar. 
 While all the world with laughing eyes, 
 
 Enjoy his torture more and more. 
 And now to end this rustic song 
 
 Let's ask the Lord by night and day, 
 That he may aid the right 'gainst wrong, 
 
 As he did in America. 
 
OUTING SONG — THE SUBURB 
 TROLLEY RIDE 
 
 Dedicated to Gen. William A. Bancroft, President of the best 
 managed street car system in the world, situated in the best city 
 and the most beautiful city suburbs under the sun. 
 
 IN Autumn, Spring or Summer 
 If you feel a little blue, 
 Don't be a chronic grum'ler 
 
 I'll just tell you what to do — 
 Go spruce up, nice and decent 
 
 Get your comrade by your side. 
 What is there half so pleasant, 
 As a suburb trolly ride. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Melancholy, 
 Is a folly ; 
 Drive it far away 
 To be jolly 
 On the trolly 
 Take a ride to-day. 
 
 The suburbs around Boston — 
 
 All, our visitors declare, 
 That, eyes were never cast on. 
 
 Any other — half as fair ; 
 Take any spoke you will upon 
 
 The Hub's wide fanlike wheel ; 
 
172 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Ere you have half your journey gone 
 You're sure to happy feel ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 When any streak of trouble comes 
 
 Not caused by your neglect, 
 (It's often in the richest homes, 
 
 It knows no self-respect) 
 Do not give way to sorrow 
 
 From your friends your trouble hide. 
 Don't wait until to-morrow 
 
 Go and take a trolly ride. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Our trolly cars are always kept 
 
 In order and repair ; 
 Deodorised, brushed clean and swept, 
 
 No microbe lodges there ; 
 The men selected with much care 
 
 Are courteous, calm and kind ; 
 The instances are very rare 
 
 Of cause for fault to find. 
 
 CJiorus. 
 
 No roystering or drunkenness 
 
 Is on the cars allowed ; 
 But there is welcome none the less, 
 
 For any pleasant crowd ; 
 Cars are the people's coaches 
 
 For the people here they've run ; 
 On whose rights naught encroaches 
 
 Out for business, health, or fun. 
 
 Chorus, 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 173 
 
 We envy not the billionaire 
 
 In his au-tom-o-bile, 
 His wealth is but a load of care 
 
 He cannot jolly feel — 
 He's always in a hurry — 
 
 No suburban sights can see — 
 All free from care and worry 
 
 The street car for you and me. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 All privileged to live in this 
 
 Old, grand, historic town ; 
 Should not forget what place it is, 
 
 How wide its high renown : 
 For the HUB and Elevated — 
 
 Ere we leave this car to-day. 
 Let our cheers be now repeated. 
 
 One, two, three. Hip, Hip, Hurrah ! ! ! 
 
SONG — TWENTY YEARS MORE 
 
 To my wife, on the Twentieth Anniversary of our marriage, 
 Sept. 8, 1876. 
 
 ?nniS just twenty years since we knelt side by side, 
 1 At the altar that evening I made you my bride, 
 That union, dear Mary, I ne'er did deplore, 
 And I trust it will last, love, for twenty years more ; 
 You have been my joy and my comfort in life, 
 Since the first blessed morning I called you my wife 
 I have loved you till now, but henceforth I'll adore. 
 And feel blessed in your love, dear, for twenty years 
 more. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 For twenty years more, for twenty years more, 
 I have loved you till now, but henceforth I'll adore. 
 I care not for wealth while I'm left you, asthore, 
 I'll feel blessed in your love, dear, for twenty years 
 more. 
 
 Oh ! well I remember that beautiful night, 
 
 'Twas the eighth of September, the moon shone out 
 
 bright. 
 But your eyes mocked its brightness, such light did 
 
 they pour, 
 May they brighten my pathway for twenty years 
 
 more. 
 When our dear ones were called to their home in the 
 
 skies. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 175 
 
 The dark cloud of sorrow brought tears from those 
 eyes, 
 
 But the sunshine of love will soon heal up the sore, 
 May we feel its influence for twenty years more. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 I wed you a child, scarcely yet seventeen, 
 And I but a boy, from the old land quite green, 
 But we launched our boat bravely and pulled from 
 the shore. 
 
 And have strength left to paddle her twenty years 
 
 more ; 
 I have oft been afraid that our boat would capsize. 
 For dark murky clouds sometimes darkened our skies. 
 But your confiding glance would my courage restore, 
 May it strengthen and bless me for twenty years 
 
 more. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 And now standing here, love, again on this night, 
 Our hearts and our hands let's again reunite. 
 Let's renew the vows here, love, we once made before. 
 To be closer united for twenty years more ; 
 You are now thirty-seven, and not seventeen. 
 And I'm not so boyish nor awkwardly green. 
 Let experience teach us to steer near the shore, 
 And keep clear of the breakers for twenty years more. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 How soon from this life we'll be summoned away, 
 We know not, dear Mary, the hour nor the day. 
 But our children to guard and their lives to watch 
 
 o'er, 
 I trust we'll be spared yet for twenty years more ; 
 
176 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 But no matter how long or how short we may stay, 
 Or how soon, or how sudden we are summoned away, 
 Our united hearts to their innermost core, 
 Feel grateful and thankful now and evermore. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
THE FRANKLIN COLLINS' 
 INSTITUTE 
 
 ALIAS 
 
 Collins' Hall 
 
 THE monument fund finished 
 Send forth now, another call, 
 Away out to Greater Boston 
 
 For a big memorial hall. 
 Yes, to all old Massachusetts, 
 
 To New England and New York, 
 To the whole United States where people 
 
 Prize Pat Collins' work. 
 Build a hall where all the toilers 
 
 Can hold meetings and debate. 
 Ways and means to thwart the spoilers. 
 
 That infest us here of late ; 
 This would fill a want long needed. 
 
 It would honor him, serve all, 
 What to youth — be so inspiring 
 
 As a noble Collins Hall ? 
 
 Let subscriptions be a dollar. 
 
 Nothing more, but less invite. 
 Don't refuse the newsboys nickel. 
 
 Don't refuse the widow's mite ; 
 This would be fair freedom's temple, 
 
 Built to honor Collins' name, 
 
178 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 And to serve the common people 
 
 Whom he loved — from whom he came 
 Soon two hundred thousand dollars 
 
 Would flow in from every side ; 
 This would build a noble structure, 
 
 To the Hub 'twould be a pride, 
 Let some good man hold the treasure. 
 
 Let the press ring out the call, 
 It will yield the masses pleasure 
 
 To erect a Collins' Hall. 
 
 Or, perhaps what would be better — 
 
 'Stead of Andrew Carnegie, 
 Patrick Collins with Ben Franklin 
 
 In one institute should be 
 These men lived for other people. 
 
 Neither lived alone for self, 
 Neither gave their minds devising 
 
 Schemes, for aggregating pelf. 
 Andrew Carnegie between them 
 
 Would be sadly out of place. 
 His donation (badly tainted) 
 
 Would but smirch it with disgrace. 
 Patrick Collins saved the Franklin Fund, 
 
 Upon the people call, 
 They should build, not Carnegie, 
 
 The Franklin-Collins Hall. 
 
A CRIPPLE, A TOP, AND A COP 
 
 A CRIPPLE was showing a top 
 When a blue-coated, brass-buttoned cop, 
 Came walking along. 
 Square of figure and strong, 
 And ordered the business to stop. 
 
 The cripple bowed to the advice 
 And closed up his traps in a trice ; 
 
 The Cop looked ashamed 
 
 And he shouldn't be blamed. 
 He no doubt, felt it didn't look nice. 
 
 His order he had to obey, 
 
 But before the small crowd turned away, 
 A big man in the crowd 
 Spoke, or murmured out loud ; 
 
 We will clean out Judge Emmons some day ! 
 
 This cripple commiting no crime, 
 Was trying to earn a dime. 
 
 But Judge Emmons of course 
 
 Must discipline his force 
 A cripple is caught every time. 
 
 Such picayune orders as these. 
 The Judge's queer antics to please. 
 Put on but for show 
 'Gainst the weak and the low. 
 Make criminals laugh in their sleeves. 
 
DISTRICT ATTORNEY JOHN B. 
 MORAN MAKING GOOD 
 
 Respects to Mayor Fitzgerald and Governor Guild. Written 
 New Year's Day, 1906. 
 
 WE have a little giant here, he's named John B. 
 Moran, 
 Old politicians laughed when he, his campaign first 
 
 began. 
 But John kept on a talking, telling people of his plan, 
 And he carried almost every ward in Boston. 
 
 He said in every speech he made, he would enforce 
 
 the laws. 
 That there would be no favorites, nor creeping out 
 
 through flaws. 
 He said the police board did not, uphold the people's 
 
 cause, 
 That the crooks were far the safest men in Boston. 
 
 He tackled first, five big hotels, as he declared he 
 
 would, 
 Not through pique or grudge but as the law demands 
 
 he should. 
 The police board are laughed at while John B. is 
 
 making good. 
 They have brought contempt for law, all over Boston. 
 
 Another thing was promised, by Attorney John 
 
 Moran, 
 He said he'd clean the city out — he'll clean it if he 
 
 can. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 181 
 
 By this time all know John B. is a most detemined 
 
 man, 
 Law breakers will soon bid Good-bye to Boston. 
 
 Judge Emmons, Carrie Nation-like, went lecturing to 
 
 schools, 
 Showing boys, how best to operate, with burglar's 
 
 latest tools. 
 The boys were interested with some grown-up fadist 
 
 fools. 
 While the burglars had a cinch, all over Boston. 
 
 He hadn't time from lecturing, left to investigate. 
 The criminal abortionists that shame the old Bay 
 
 State, 
 And stop the awful happenings occurrmg here of late, 
 
 Abhorent to the decent folk of Boston. 
 
 John B. has quickly shown us, an old lady and two 
 
 boys. 
 Who constitute the police board are of much crime, 
 
 the cause. 
 By giving all inclined that way, contempt for statute 
 
 laws. 
 They should get a long vacation out of Boston. 
 
 And soon with John Fitzgerald sitting in the Mayor's 
 
 chair, 
 There will be lots of music floating on the ambient 
 
 air, 
 John F. and John B. soon will be a mighty busy pair. 
 
 To make a cleaner, '* better, busier Boston." 
 
 It seems quite providential that both Johns should 
 come together 
 . And each may thank himself for his election and no 
 other, 
 
182 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 So each is apt to have his way 'gainst any amount of 
 
 bother 
 And there will be mighty stirring times in Boston. 
 
 Another sign of progress — up beneath the gilded 
 
 dome, 
 A big broad-minded Governor will feel himself at 
 
 home, 
 He'll veto no progressive laws that may before him 
 
 come 
 And he'll help repeal the crank laws, crowding 
 
 Boston. 
 
 And now I'll end this little rhyme with hearty honest 
 
 cheer, 
 By wishing these three shining lights a happy bright 
 
 New Year, 
 May all their acts be honest, open, manly and 
 
 sincere. 
 For all old Massachusetts, and for Boston. 
 
s 
 
 THE DUTCHMAN'S COMPLAINT 
 
 Written during the panic in the winter of '75. 
 
 'AY were vos all te pishness gone 
 Does anybody know ? 
 'Tvos only shust some doo dree years 
 
 Since it vos not pe so ; 
 Dos times vos goot, dat schrip dit vly, 
 
 I sold goot lager bier 
 Und all ter volks vot come to dhrink 
 
 Vos alvays mit goot sheer. 
 But now ven von dos seldom call 
 
 His vace looks long and dim, 
 'Tvos easy known he vos not got 
 
 Dot lager beer mid-din ; 
 Und, vin he takes von glass alone 
 
 He shust goes right avay 
 Und maybe no more customers 
 
 Vill come again dot day ; 
 So vere vos all de peeshness gone 
 
 I'm sure I do not know, 
 I ask you once agan mine friends 
 
 Vere dit te peeshness go ? 
 
 Vere vosh all der labor gone, 
 
 Dat vos zo blenty round ? 
 Vrom carpenter or mason now, 
 
 You do not hear a zound ; 
 
184 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Dot machine shop is silent, und 
 
 Dot vacthory is shtill, 
 Und not a job of vork, men vind 
 
 Go dravel vere de vill. 
 They look vor vork, dey search vor vork, 
 
 The men are not to blame ; 
 Vor everyvere dey thramp und go 
 
 De shtory is de zame. 
 Und oft dey hear an upshtart schamp 
 
 Durn up his nose und say ; 
 Your nudding but a dirty thramp. 
 
 Get up und go avay ! 
 They thramp und thramp but nudding vind 
 
 To ease their grief und vo, 
 I ask you once again my vriends, 
 
 Vere did de labor go ? 
 
 Say vere vos all ter monish gone 
 
 Can anybody tell ? 
 Te say it never goes to Heaven, 
 
 It musht ave gone to Hell ! 
 But if it has not gone so var. 
 
 It mounts to shust ter zame 
 Ter working beeple havn't got 
 
 A tollar to der name ! 
 Un ven von vorks a leetle vile 
 
 Vor somepody he'll say ; 
 Shust make a sharge of dot, 
 
 As yet I havn't got my pay ; 
 Und den he lights his pipe und goes, 
 
 I look up at de shlate ; 
 I shake my head to dink how long 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 185 
 
 Vor dot I'll have to vait ; 
 So vere vosh all ter monish gone 
 
 I'm shure I do not know ; 
 If it has not gone shtrait to hell 
 
 Vere in hell did it go ? 
 
 I dell you vot it is mine vriends, 
 
 I may perhaps pe wrong ; 
 I dink dese office holders hold 
 
 Der offices doo long ! 
 At first when de get into blace 
 
 To do things clean and nice, 
 Und afther dat a leetle vile 
 
 Te learn to dake a shlise ; 
 Und den by usage te grow bold 
 
 Und do not care a tarn ; 
 Dhey dake too dollars vor dem selves, 
 
 Und von vor Uncle Sam, 
 Und den de schweeze de daxes on 
 
 Vot beeple eat and vair ; 
 Tey'd dax te zunlight if de could 
 
 Und dax ter very air ! 
 Zo now mine vriends I dink I show'd you 
 
 Clearly in my zong, 
 How peeshness, labor, monish, all 
 
 Has gone zo develish wrong ! 
 
THE WRONG WAY 
 
 OF others' interest to take no heed, 
 Of distrust and discord to sow the seed, 
 To set the example of selfish greed, 
 
 To stimulate vexation. 
 To scatter falsehood far and wide, 
 To foster upstart, sickening pride. 
 To meanly suspect e'en the true and tried — 
 This is demoralization. 
 
 To scatter tares, where we grain would gather, 
 To rebuke, to insult, to revile each other. 
 To all a man fool, instead of brother, 
 
 To practice equivocation ; 
 To point out every defect and flaw. 
 To say we've seen faults that we never saw 
 To scoff at charity's heavenly law — 
 
 This is aggravation. 
 
 The Right Way 
 
 TO bid all jealousies begone. 
 To make the many acts as one, 
 Centering all their power upon 
 
 Mutual elevation ; 
 All grudging rivalries to hide, 
 Narrow self-seeking to cast aside, 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 187 
 
 All in each to firmly confide — 
 This is organization. 
 
 To meet like brothers, early and late, 
 
 To join in friendly calm debate, 
 
 To give to the truth its proper weight, 
 
 E'en against one's inclination ; 
 To search for the truth as we trudge along, 
 To enlighten the mind and to make it strong, 
 To learn to decide between right and wrong — 
 
 This is education. 
 
 When doubts and differences arise, 
 To choose out men discreet and wise. 
 Who together will calmly sit and advise 
 
 On the cause of irritation ; 
 To do as by others they'd be done by, 
 To straighten each kink that may seem awry, 
 To satisfy all to faithfully try — 
 
 This is our arbitration. 
 
 To encourage the shiftless, the lowly the poor, 
 To lighten the load they are forced to endure, 
 To find out the cause, to apply the cure, 
 
 To remove each aggravation ; 
 To lift (when we can) the crushing weight 
 That carries them down to a sullen fate. 
 To learn them to tread erect and elate — 
 
 Is the sum of our expectation. 
 
LINES TO THE MEMORY OF 
 
 REV. FATHER THOMAS SCULLY 
 
 Late Beloved Pastor of St. Mary's, Cambridge, Mass. 
 
 YES, build him a monument, stone upon stone, 
 To commemorate the bright virtues of him 
 Who, 'though from our midst he forever has flown, 
 
 His life-work amongst us shall never grow dim. 
 All things to all men like another Saint Paul 
 
 To draw them to God and to wean them from sin, 
 His heart was a furnace of love for us all, 
 Regardless of creed, or the color of skin. 
 
 Build him a monument, 'mongst us to-night. 
 
 We see the reflex of the work he has done 
 For temperance, liberty, justice and right, 
 
 He moulded all creeds and all races in one. 
 Though Catholic, through, to his innermost soul, 
 
 His zeal and his charity never knew bounds, 
 Not alone to his flock but to Cambridge in whole 
 
 The fruit of his love and his labor redounds. 
 
 A Cathohc pastor — he was it is true 
 
 A warm pro-tes-tant against flagrant vice. 
 
 He was not, whenever it came neath his view 
 To those who persisted, at all over nice. 
 
 Here, Protestants, Catholics, Jews, Gentiles, all 
 Who loved Father Scully, take deepest delight, 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 189 
 
 To show by our presence in this crowded hall, 
 
 We are all of one race and one creed for to-night. 
 
 Raise him a monument — Cambridge alone 
 
 Does not circumscribe all the good he has done, 
 Its influence reaches a far wider zone, 
 
 Few know all the love his kind nature had won. 
 ** A lambkin in peace a real lion in war " 
 
 To know was to love him, to meet him was bliss 
 May he reap in his home above sun moon and star 
 
 Full and ample reward for his labor in this. 
 
LINES TO THE OLD AND THE NEW 
 
 FIGHTING (IRISH) NINTH 
 
 MASSACHUSETTS 
 
 Read at the Annual Reunion at Nantasket Point, 190'). 
 
 WHEN the scourge of rebellion afflicted this 
 land, 
 The Ninth Massachusetts for Union did stand ; 
 Though immigrants lately from Ireland flown, 
 Their national valor was valiently shown. 
 
 All through that fierce conflict of — South against 
 
 North, 
 No men, to the front, went more gallantly forth ; 
 In fore-front of battle full often were seen. 
 The red white and blue, and the old flag of green. 
 
 From first to the last — they were always the same ; 
 Adding daily, new honors to Irishmen's fame ; 
 'Till victory, union and liberty, crowned. 
 The brave Irish Ninth on high duty was found. 
 
 May all old survivors, who fought hard to save 
 The Union, — receive the protection they gave ; 
 The guerdeon denied them they'll get — with due 
 
 care. 
 When a brave soldier fills the executive chair. 
 
SONGS AND POEMS 191 
 
 In the war to free Cuba, the Ninth once again, 
 Did fully its historic valor maintain : 
 A new generation of sons of the Gael 
 Went forward the proud Spanish foe to assail. 
 
 This war un-provoked — was soon brought to an end, 
 So bravely the Ninth did their country defend ; 
 True sons of their sires — for freedom and right, 
 They bore at the fore-front, the brunt of the fight. 
 
 Then, lay laurel wreaths on the tombs of the brave. 
 Who to their loved country their lives freely gave ; 
 May the cause they upheld stand forever the same, 
 Unsmirched by deception, untarnished by shame. 
 
LINKS ON THE DEATH OF MY DEAR FRIEND, THE 
 
 FAITHFUL, FEARLESS, AND EFFECTIVE 
 
 LABOR ADVOCATE 
 
 JOHN F. O'SULLIVAN 
 
 September 22, 1902. 
 
 OUR hearts are overwhelmed with grief ; 
 Unexpectedly death made a call, 
 He came in the night like a thief 
 And struck down the favorite of all. 
 
 In O' Sullivan teeming with health, 
 Death saw a bright mark for his dart 
 
 And by the most devious stealth 
 He pierced that pure lovable heart. 
 
 A heart that beat warm for mankind 
 
 Regardless of race or of creed ; 
 A generous hand and a mind 
 
 Of all taint of selfishness freed. 
 
 To his wife and his children God send 
 High courage his absence to bear, 
 
 As husband as father as friend 
 
 Not many with Jack could compare. 
 
 His wife, his dear comrade, his guide 
 What pen could paint dimly her loss ? 
 
 May Heaven that made her Jack's bride 
 Assist her to carry her cross. 
 
BIG CHICAGO 
 
 written on board the car Canandaigua. on our return from .he 
 Chicago Land League Convention 1881. Ued.cated to the Ho». 
 John F. Finerty of Chicago. 
 
 THE great Convention now is past, 
 And we are homeward fast returning 
 No glance of sorrow need we cast 
 
 At aught, from meeting till adjourning 
 Great was our task ; 'twas grandly done. 
 
 Untouched by hand of vile lago 
 Unselfish purpose moved each one 
 Who met at gen'rous big Chicago. 
 
 Confidingly our Motherland 
 
 Might look across the mighty ocean, 
 And firmly, proudly take her stand, 
 
 Nor heed the turmoil and commotion 
 Imposed on her by England's queen. 
 
 (Towards Ireland an old virago ; ) 
 Could she the glorious sight have seen 
 
 That just transpired in big Chicago. 
 
 How vain the prophecy which said 
 
 The strife would tear our ranks asunder ; 
 
 That some unsound, ill-balanced head 
 Would make some fatal Irish blunder, 
 
 - The wish was father to the thought " 
 That prophesied such cursed embargo 
 
194 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 But base desires came to naught 
 
 Peace reigned supreme in big Chicago. 
 
 No wonder then our hearts are light ; 
 
 Our inmost souls with rapture swelling, 
 Beneath the spreading, searching light 
 
 Injustice cannot find a dwelling ; 
 Then let this generous, jovial band. 
 
 Who travel in the Canandaigua, 
 Grasp every brother's manly hand 
 
 And toast, God bless you, big Chicago. 
 
 Chicago — what a wondrous place ! 
 
 How giant-like the strides 'tis making 
 And strange this " shiftless Irish race" 
 
 In foremost rank its place is taking 
 Britania's queen, beneath the sun 
 
 Through all her realms may near and far go, 
 She can't point out a spot, not one. 
 
 That can compare with big Chicago. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Adrift 3 
 
 Written April, 1901. 
 
 How Much is There in it For Me ? . . . 9 
 
 Written May, 1899. 
 
 The Trusts H 
 
 Written 1900. 
 
 The Imperialists Trample on the Constitution . 15 
 
 Written immediately after McKinley's second inaugu- 
 ration. 
 
 Paul Revere's Ride 1^ 
 
 Mountains of Wealth vs. Valleys of Want . . '21 
 
 Watertown Town Hall -3 
 
 Written ten years after leaving Watertown. 
 
 Sailing Down the Harbor '^'^ 
 
 One Hundred Years Ago -9 
 
 Address to the Charles River . . • • 38 
 Written in 1878. 
 
 The Acquisition of Canada .... 
 
 Written May 1905. 
 
 3(1 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Reciprocity ....... 38 
 
 Written May 1904. 
 
 New Reciprocity Song . . . . 40 
 
 Written 1004. 
 
 The Night Watch of Liberty Bell ... 42 
 Written when the Bell was on Boston Common. 
 
 The People's Campaign ..... 40 
 Written 1003. 
 
 Population vs. Self-Preservation .... 48 
 Written 1905. 
 
 An Open Epistle to Hon. Henry Cabot Lodge, 50 
 
 Written 1905. 
 
 Whitelaw Reid's Coronation Breeches . . 53 
 
 Written immediately after King Edward's Coronation. 
 
 Boston's Welcome to Grand Army Veterans . 55 
 
 England's Peace Invasion of Boston ... 57 
 
 The Home Market Club 59 
 
 The Trust-i-fied Home Market Club ... 62 
 
 Written 1904. 
 
 How Best to Celebrate the Fourth . . . 65 
 
 The Schemer's Revolution 68 
 
 Written after the passage of the Police Registration 
 law. 
 
 Gone Money Mad . . . • • "0 
 
 Since We Became a World Power . . . 72 
 
 Preserve Old Constitution 76 
 
 Lines to the Memory of Patrick A. Collins . . 81 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Welcome to Douglas Hyde 
 
 Latest Version of the Shan Van Vocht ; or, Queen 
 
 Victoria's Recruiting Trip to Ireland . 
 Song of Welcome to Very Rev. Mons. O'Callaghan, 
 The Old Fenian's Address to His New Repeating 
 
 Rifle 
 
 Hail To Thee, Erin 
 
 Emmett's Grave . • 
 
 There's a Bright Gleam of Hope, 1905 
 Answer to the Harp That Once Through Tara' 
 
 Hall 
 
 Lines to the Memory of George Frisbie Hoar 
 
 Keep Up Erin's Cause 
 
 Answer to the Wearing of the Green . 
 
 My Braedeen Cotha Mohr . 
 
 Sligo Town ; or, Knock-na-rae . 
 
 Dear Erin . • • • • ' 
 
 God Bless the Good Old Irish Brogue . 
 
 Cead Mille Faulthia Lath Sogarth Aroon 
 
 The Sons of the Gael . 
 
 From Antrim to Cork 
 
 A Patriotic Appeal 
 
 Irish Expansion . 
 
 Michael Davitt's Soliloquy in Portland Prison 
 
 PAGE 
 
 87 
 91 
 
 94 
 
 98 
 
 99 
 
 103 
 
 105 
 
 106 
 
 107 
 
 109 
 
 112 
 
 116 
 
 119 
 
 120 
 
 123 
 
 126 
 
 128 
 
 130 
 
 132 
 
 134 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 William Redmond's Welcome .... 137 
 
 William Redmond's Welcome, II. . . . 140 
 
 Mother Erin 142 
 
 Song in English for an Irish Ireland . . . 144 
 
 Song of the Ancient Order of Hibernians . . 146 
 Song of the Holy Name . . . . .151 
 
 Give Me O Lord , 153 
 
 Resignation . . . . . . .155 
 
 Written in 1875 after the loss of all my business 
 and possessions and our oldest daughter's death. 
 
 Saint Anthony's Parish ..... 157 
 
 A Rhyming Review of the Challenge Cup . . 159 
 
 The Irish Servant Girls of Back Bay ... 162 
 
 The Second British Invasion of Concord, etc. . 164 
 
 The Lion and the Boer 168 
 
 Outing Song — The Suburb Trolley Ride . . 171 
 
 Song — Twenty Years More .... 174 
 
 The Franklin Collins Institute alias Collins Hall, 177 
 
 A Cripple, a Top and a Cop . . . .179 
 
 District Attorney John B. Moran Making Good . 180 
 
 The Dutchman's Complaint .... 183 
 
 The Wrong Way — The Right Way ... 186 
 
 Father Scully 188 
 
 The Old and the New Fighting Ninth Regiment, 190 
 
 Lines to the Memory of John F. O'SuUivan . 192 
 
 The Chicago Convention . . . . .193 
 

 THE J. K. WATERS COMPANY 
 
 14-20 Beach Street 
 
 Boston 
 
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