9l8f D2.82. UC-NRLF $B 27 372 i he FLYING CLOUD And 150 Other Old Time Poems and Ballads Jl Collection of UL irish Sorgs, Songs of the Sea andQi eat Lafcs, The fl}ig Pine Woods, The Prize Ring and Others. Com; ikd &y M. C. b£AN Virginia, Minnesota FLYING CLOUD And One Hundred and Fifty other Old Time Songs and Ballads of Outdoor Men, Sailors, Lumber Jacks, Soldiers, Men of the Great Lakes, Railroadmen, Miners, etc. Compiled by M. C DEAN THE QUICKPRINT VIRGINIA. MINNESOTA My name u FLYING CLOUD. name is "Willie Hollander, as you may understand, I was born in tlie County Waterford in Erin's happy land; When I was young and in my prime, then beauty on me smiled, My parents doted on me, I being their only child. My father bound me to a trade in Waterford's fair town, He bound me to a cooper there by the name of Willie Brown; I served my master faithfully for eighteen months or more, Then I. shipped on board of the ''Ocean Queen, bound for Bellefresiers shore. And when we reached Bellefreisers shore I met with Captain Moore, The captain of the Flying Cloud, that sails from Baltimore ; He asked me if I would sail with him on a slaving voyage to go, To the burning shores of Africa where the coffee seeds do grow. The Flying Cloud was a clipper ship of five hundred tons or more, >She could easy sail 'round anything' going out of Baltimore. Her sails were as white as the driven snow and on them there's no speck. And forty-nine brass pounder guns she carried on her deck. The Flying Cloud was as fine a ship as ever sailed the seas, Or ever spread a main topsail before a freshening breeze; I have oft times seen that gallant bark with the wind abaft her beam, With her main top Royal and stun sails set taking sixteen from the reel. The first place that we landed 'twas on the African shore, And five hundred of those poor slaves from their native land we bore; ■ I arched them out upon our plank and stowed them down below. It was eighteen inches to the man was all that there was to go. Early next morning we set sail with our cargo of slaves, It would have been better for those poor souls if they'd been in their graves; For the plague and fever came on board, swept half their num- ber away, And we dragged their bodies on the deck and threw them in the sea. In the course of three weeks after we arrived on Cuba's shore, We sold them to the planters there, to be slaves for evermore; 1 604152 Tlie rice anil coffee seeds to sow beneath the burning sun, To lead a hard and wretched life until their career was run. And now our money is all spent and we are off to sea again, "When Captain Moore he came on board and said to us his men : ''There is gold and silver to be had if with me you'll remain, We'll hoist aloft a pirate flag and scour the Spanish Main." We all agreed but five young lads who told us them to land, Two of those were Boston boys, two more from Newfoundland; And the other was an Irish lad belonging to Trimore, I wish to God I had joined those boys and went with them on shore. We sank and plundered many a ship down on the Spanish Main, Left many a widow and orphan child in sorrow to remain; We made them walk out on our plank, gave to them a watery .grave, * For a saying of our captain was that a dead man tells no tales. Pursued we were by many ships, both frigates and liners, too, But for to catch the Flying Cloud was a thing they ne'er could do; It was all in vain astern of us their cannons roared so loud, It w r as all in vain to ever try for to catch the Flying Cloud. Till a Spanish ship, a man-of-war, the Dungeon, hove in view, And fired a shot across our boys as a signal to heave to ; We gave to her no answer, but sailed before the wind, Until a chain shot broke our mizzen mast and then we fell behind. We cleared our deck for action as_she came up 'longside, And soon from off our quarter decks there ran a crimson tide ; We fought till Captain Moore was killed, and eighty of his men, When a bomb shell set our ship on fire, we were forced to sur- render then. Now fare you well, you shady groves and the girl that I do adore, Your voice like music soft and sweet will never cheer me more ; No more will I kiss those ruby lips or clasp that silk-soft hand. For here I must die a shameful death out in some foreign land. It w r as next to New Gate I was brought, bound down in iron chains, For the plundering of ships at sea down on the Spanish Main • It was drinking and bad company that made a wretch of me, So youths beware of my sad fate and my curse on Piracy. LULUAXXA. I know a little cot as humble as can be, It stands on the banks of the Susquehanna, Where the wild flowers bloom and the humming' birds play, Oh, there lives my sweet Luluanna. ( 1 horus — is fair as the dawn, as mild as the eve. And as graceful as the bold Susquehanna ; She is my ideal, an Angel of the earth. The idol of my heart is Luluanna. If I were a fish I would swim by her side, he sails on the bold Susquehanna: I would dream of her by night, I'd think of her by day. Till I won the heart of Luluanna. PATRICK SHEEHAX. My name is Patrick Sheehau, my years are thirty-four, 1 was born in Tipperary, not far from Galtimore ; I came of honest parents, but now they are lying low. And it's many the happy days I spent in the glens of Aherloe. My father died, I closed his eyes outside our cabin door, The landlord and the sheriff, too, were there the day before; It was then my poor old mother and sisters, two, also, "With broken hearts were forced to leave the glens of Aherloe. Then for three months in search of work I rambled far and near, Then I went unto the poor house to see my mother dear; The news I heard nigh broke my heart, but yet in all my woe, I blest the friends that made their graves in the' glens of Aherloe. Bereft of home, of kith and kin, and plenty all around, I starved within my cabin and slept upon the ground; •ruel as my lot it was. I ne'er did hardships know. Until I joined the English army far away from Aherloe. "Get up, you lazy Irish dog," the corporal he came around, "Don't you hear the bugle, the called to arms, sound. 1 " -. I had been dreaming of days long, long ago, And I woke before Sebastapool, and not in Aherloe. I groped for my musket, how dark I thought the night 1 Oh, blessed God, it was not dark, it was the broad daylight; And when I found that I was blind, the tears they down did flow And I longed for even a pauper's grave in the glens of Aherloe. Now a x>oor, forlorn mendicant, I wander through the streets, My nine months' pension being out, I beg from all I meet; But since I joined my country's tyrants my face I ne'er will show To the kind and loving neighbors in the glens of Aherloe. Oh, Blessed Virgin Mar}% mine is a mournful tale, A poor blind prisoner here I lie in Dublin's dreary jail; Struck blind within the trenches where I never feared the foe, But now I never more will see my own sweet Aherloe. Now. youths and fellow countrymen, take heed to what I say. Don't ever join the English ranks or you'll surely rue tlie day , And if ever you are tempted a-soldiering to go, Remember poor blind Sheehan and the glens of Aherloe. MORRISY AND THE RUSSIAN SAILOR. Come, all you sons of- Erin, attention now I crave, While I relate the praises of an Irish hero brave ; Concerning a great fight, me boys, all on the other day, Between a Russian sailor and bold Jack Morrisy. It was in Tierra Del Fuego, in South America, The Russian challenged Morrisy and unto him did say, "I hear you are a fighting man and wear a belt, I see; "What do you say, will you consent to have a round with me?" Then up spoke bold Jack Morrisy, with a heart so stout and true, Saying, "I am a gallant Irishman that never was subdued; Oh, I can whale a Yankee, a Saxon bull or bear, And in honor of old Paddy's land I'll still those laurels wear. These words enraged the Russian upon that foreign land, To think that he would be put down by any Irishman; He says, "You are too light for me, on that make no mistake, I would have you to resign the belt, or else your life I '11 take. ' ' To fight upon the tenth of June those heroes did agree, And thousands came from every part the battle for to see; The English and the Russians, their hearts were filled with glee, They swore the Raissian sailor boy would kill bold Morrisy. They both stripped off, stepped in the ring, most' glorious to be seen, And Morrisy put on the belt, bound 'round with shamrocks^ green, Full twenty thousand dollars, as you may plainly see, That was to be the champion's prize that gained the rictory. 4 X They both shook hands, walked 'round the ring commencing then to fight, It filled each Irish heart with joy for to behold the sight ; The Russian he floored Morrisy up to the eleventh round, With English, Russian and Saxon cheers the valley did resound. A minute and a half our hero lay before he could rise, The word went all about the field, "He's dead!" were all their cries; But Morrisy worked manfully and, raising from the ground, From that until the twentieth the Russian he put down. Up to the thirty-seventh round 'twas fall and fall about, "Which made the burly sailor to keep a sharp look-out; The Russian called his second and asked for a glass of wine, Our Irish hero smiled and said, "This battle will be rnine." The thirty-eighth decided all, the Russian felt the smart, When Morrisy. with a fearful blow, he struck him o'er the heart, A doctor he was called on to open up a vein, He said it was quite useless, he would never fight again. Our hero conquered Thompson, the Yankee clipper, too, The Benicia boy and Sheppard he nobly did subdue; So let us fill a flowing bowl and drink a health galore To brave Jack Morrisy and Paddies evermore. THE DYING SOLDIER. Oh, the moon looked down from an azure sky, When the deadly fight was o'er. On the battle field where the ))rave laid low, Whom life could claim no more: And her pale light cast on the damp, cold earth, Where a wounded soldier lay. O'er whose face there crept the shade of death, As his life's blood ebbed away. The dying soldier raised his hand, And gently brushed aside The -raven locks that his heart's blood To crimson red had dyed; Then faintly, lowly, comrade said, "Not long on earth's my stay, Xo more I'll roam in my childhood's home, In old Erin far away. ' "But a lock of hair I pray you bear 5 Mfr mother o'er the sea, So that when upon it she may look, She'll kindly think of me; And tell her though mid India's sands, My mouldering dust may lay, My heart is still in Erin, Old Erin, far away. ' ' Tell my sister, though long years have passed Since I saw her smiling face, That her form's still present to my mind, Each feature I can trace; And at this, my last and dying hour, My wandering thoughts they stray To those grassy glades where oft we played, In old Erin far away. "Tell my brothers that I nobly fought, And as our father died, With my bayonet charging on the foe, And sabjtf by my side; It nerved my heart to conquer, And the Sepoy foe to slay, As visions bright came o'er my sight Of old Erin far away. "Tell the friends with whom in childhood I played 'round the old oak tree, That my last breath blest them dying, In a land far o 'er the sea ; And tell them that I bled and fought, ; On this eventful day, For Britania's honor, Britania's Queen, And old Erin far away." His voice grew low and Aveaker, And slowly sank his head, His comrade stooped to raise him, But the spark of life had fled; A 'j rave was made in which he was laid, Ere closed the waning day, Far from those haunts he loved so well, In old Erin far awav. A>vD THEY CALLED IT IRELAND. Did you ever hear the story of how Ireland got its name? 6 '11 you so you'll understand from whence ould Ireland came. wonder we are proud of that dear land across the sea, For this is how my good ould mother tould the tale to me: Sure, a little drop of Heaven fell from out the sky one day, And it settled on the ocean in a spot so far away. And when the angels found it, it looked so sweet and fair, They said, ' ' Suppose we leave it, for it seems so peaceful there. ' ' And they showered dew upon it just to see the shamrocks grow, It's the only place you'll find them, no matter where you go; Then they sprinkled it with star dust, just to make her lakes so grand, And when they had it finished, they called it Ireland. It's the Home of the Shillalah and the wondrous wishing well, And there's not a spot on God's green earth where there's such lakes and dells. wader that the angels loved her Shamrock-bordered shore, It's a little drop of Heaven, and I love it more and more. PATRICK RILEY. My name is Patrick Riley, the truth I will make known, And I was born near Clonis, in the County of Tyronne; My parents reared me tenderly, they had no child but me, And with them I lived contented till the age of twenty-three. It was then I took a notion to cross the raging sea, In search of some promotion unto America; To seek employment in that land, a fortune to obtain, And when I had secured it, to return straight home again. Alas, I had a sweetheart, Jane Wilson was her name, And when she heard I was going away, straightway to me she came, And she said, "Can it be possible that you will prove so unkind, As to go away and leave me broken-hearted here behind ^'Dear Jane," said I, "be not afraid; it's you I do adore, My daily thoughts will be of you while on Columbia's shore, And when I do return again, if God spares me my life. Here is my hand in promise that T'll make you my wife." With this she seemed quite reconciled and home straightway she went, And down to Justice Harrington the very next day she went, 7 And she swore I had ill-used her, had treated her shamefully, I had robbed, her of her virgin bloom which proved her destiny.' I soon was apprehended, as you may understand, And they marched me off to Liffy jail at the Magistrate's command ; It's there I lay in irons until my trial day, Oh, little did I ever think she'd swear my life away. On the twenty-first day of July my trial it came on, This maid, being void of Scripture, before the judge did stand, And she swore I had waylaid her and robbed her of five pound, And tried to force her in a pool where she soon would have been drowned. The judge then charged the jury with words that were severe, Saying, "This maid must now be rightified for all she's had to bear." The jury gave their verdict, aloud the judge did cry, "For your cruelty unto this maid, young Riley, you must die." When I received my sentence my eyes with tears did flow, The thoughts of leaving my mother in sorrow, grief and woe; She being so far advanced in years and had no child but me, How conld she bear to see me hang upon the gallows tree? And now as I'm about to meet my God, all on this very day, I never injured that fair false one that swore my life away; The time is fast approaching, I have no more to say, May the Lord receive my soul with joy; good people, for me pray. THE ARKANSAW NAVVY. Come listen to my story and I'll tell you in my chant It's the lamentation of an Irish emigrant, Who lately crossed the ocean and misfortune never saw, 'Till he worked upon the railroad in the State of Arkansaw When I landed in St. Louis I'd ten dollars and no more, I read the daily papers until both me eyes were sore; I was looking for advertisements until at length I saw Five hundred men were wanted in the State of Arkansaw. Oh, how me heart it bounded when I read the joyful news, Straightway then I started for the* raging Billie Hughes; Says he, ' ' Hand me five dollars and a ticket you will draw That will take you to the railroad in the State of Arkansaw. 8 I handed him the money, but it gave me soul a shock, And soon was safely landed in the city of Little Rock; There was not a man in all that land that would extend to me his paw, And say, "You're heartily welcome to the State of Arkansaw." I wandered 'round the depot, I rambled up and down, I fell in with a man catcher and he said his name was Brown; He says, "You are a stranger and you're looking rather raw, On yonder hill is me big hotel, it's the best in Arkansaw." Then I followed my conductor up to the very place, "Where poverty was depicted in his dirty, brockey face; His bread was corn dodger and his mate I couldn't chaw, And fifty cents he charged for it in the State of Arkansaw. Then I shouldered up my turkey, hungry as a shark, Traveling along the road that leads to the Ozarks ; It would melt your heart with pity as I trudged along the track, To see those dirty bummers with their turkeys on their backs. Such sights of dirty bummers I'm sure you never saw As worked upon the railroad in the State of Arkansaw. I am sick and tired of railroading and I think I'll give it o'er, I'll my the pick and shovel down and I'll railroad no more; I'll go out in the Indian nation and I'll marry me there a squaw, And I'll bid adieu to railroading and the State of Arkansaw. IRELAND MUST BE HEAVEN, FOE MY MOTHER CAME FROM THERE. I've often heard my daddy speak of Ireland's lakes and dells, The place must be like Heaven, if it's half like what he tells; There's roses fair and shamrocks there, and laughing waters flow ; I've never seen that Isle of Green, but there's one thing sure, I know — Refrain — Ireland must be Heaven, for an angel came from there, I never knew a living soul one-half as sweet or fair, For her eyes are like the star-light, and the white clouds match her hair; Sure. Ireland must be Heaven, for my mother came from there. pictured in my fondest dreams old Ireland's vales and rills, I see a stairway to the sky, formed by her verdant hills; Each wave that's in the ocean blue just loves to hug the store, So if Ireland isn't Heaven, then sure, it must be right next door. 9 THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND. Mjy parents reared me tenderly, they had no child but me. My mind being bent on rambling, with them could not a So soon became a rover, which grieved their hearts full sore, I left my aged parents, I ne'er Avill see them more. There lived a wealthy farmer in the country close by, He had a lovely daughter and on her I'd cast my eye; She was noble-minded, tall, beautiful and fair, With Columbia's loveliest daughters she truly could compare. I told her my intentions was soon to cross the main, And asked if she would be true to me until I returned again; Great drops of tears stood in her eyes, her bosom heaved a sigh, "Dear youth," says she, "fear not. for me, mv love will never die." But somewhere I have heard or read that which I cannot be- lieve, That distance breaks the links of love and leaves the maid to grieve : I fondly clasped her to my breast and kissed away her tears, And I swore by Him above the skies that I would be sincere. According to agreement, then, I went on board the ship And to the town of Glasgow I had a pleasant trip: I found that gold was plenty there, and girls were free and kind, And my thoughts began to cool a bit for the girl I left behind. For Dumfries town I next set out, that hospitable land, Where handsome Jennie Ferguson she took me by the hand; &h~e says, "I've gold in plenty and love for you I find/' And the thoughts of gold destroyed my love for the maid I left behind. She says, "If you will many me and say no more you'll rove, The gold that I've got is yours, and I will faithful prove; But friends or relations that you have left behind. Ton never, if you marry me, again must bear in mind. To this I soon consented, I own it to my shame, For what man can be happy when he , knows he is to blame? It's true I've gold in plenty, my wife is somewhat kind, But my pillow still is haunted by the friends I left behind. My father in his winding sheet, my mother, too, appears, The girl I loved seems by their sides, a-kissing away4heir tears; Of broken hearts they all have died and now too late I find That God has seen my cruelty to the girl I left behind. 10 THE BANK OF THE LITTLE AUPLAINE. One evening in June as I rambled Through the green woods and meadows alone, The meadow larks warbled melodious, I merrily the whipporwill sung; The frogs in the marshes were croaking, ^ The tree-toads were whistling for rain. And the partridge all around me were drumming, On the banks of the Little Auplaine. The sun to the West a-declining, Had shaded the tree tops with red. My wandering feet led me onward, Not caring wherever I strayed. Till by chance I beheld a fair school ma'am. Who most bitterly did complain,. It was all for the loss of her lover From the banks of the Little Auplaine. I boi >ped up to this fair one, And this unto her I did say, "Why are you so sad and so mournful. When all nature is smiling- and gay'" ; 'It's all for a jolly young raftsman, But I fear I will see him* no more. For he is down on the Wisconsin River, A-pulling a fifteen-foot oar." "If it's all for a .jolly young raftsman You are here in such awful despair, Pray tell me the name of your true love. And what kind of clothes did he wear?" '•His pants were made of two meal sac With a patch a foot wide on each knee, And his jacket and shirt they- were dyed With the bark of the butternut tree. ''His hair was inclined to be curly, His whig red as the sun, He was tall, square-shouldered and handsome. His height was six feet and one. His name was young Johnnie Murphy, And his equal I ne'er saw before, But he is down on the Wisconsin River, A-pulling a fifteen-foot oar." "If Johnnie Murphy was the name of your true love, He was a man I knew very well. 11 But sad is the tale I must tell you, Your Johnnie was drowned in the Dalles. We buried him 'neath a scrub Norway, And his face you will ne'er see again; ^No stone marks the grave of your lover, And he is far from the Little Auplaine.'-' When she heard me say this she fainted, x\nd fell at my feet like one dead; I scooped Vp a hat full of water And threw it all over her head. She opened her eyes and looked wildly, She acted like one that's insane, I thought to n^self she had gone crazy On the banks of the Little x\uplaine. "My curse be upon you, Ross Campbell, For taking my Johnnie away; May the eagles take hold of your body, And sink it 'way down in the clay. May your lumber all go to the bottom, Never rise to the surface no more; May all of your creeks and your sandbars Go as dry as the log schoolhouse floor. ' ' And now, I will leave this location, I'll teach district school no more; I will go where never, no never, I will hear the screech of a fifteen-foot oar. I will go to some far distant country, To England, to France or to Spain, But I will never forget Johnnie Murphy Or the banks of the Little Auplaine. RED IRON ORE. Come, all you bold sailors that follow the lakes On an iron ore vessel, your living to make; I shipped in Chicago, bid adieu to the shore, Bound away to Escanaba for red iron ore. Derry Down, Down, Down, Derry Down. In the month of September, the seventeenth day, Two dollars and a quarter is all they would pay, And on Monday morning from Bridgeport did take The E. C. Roberts out in the lake. Derry Down, Down, Down, Derry Down. 12 Tiie wind from the southard sprang up a fresh breeze, away through Lake Michigan the Roberts did sneeze, q through Lake Michigan the Roberts did roar, And on Friday morning we passed through death's door. Derry Down, Down, Down, Derry Down. This packet she howled across the mouth of Green Bay, And before her cut water she dashed the white spray; We rounded the sand point, our anchor let go, We furled in our canvas. and the watch went below. Deny Down, Down, Down, Derry Down. Next morning we hove alongside the- " Exile,' 3 And soon was made fast to an iron ore pile; They lowered their chutes and like thunder did roar. They spouted into us that red iron ore. Derry Down, Down, Down, Derry Down. Some sailors took shovels, while others got spades, And some took wheelbarrows, each man to his trade. We looked like red devils, our fingers got sore, We cursed Escanaba and damned iron ore. Deny Down, Down, Down, Derry Down. The tug Escanaba she towed out the ' ' MSnch, ' ' The Roberts, she thought, she had been left in a pinch, And as they passed by us they bid us goodbye, Saying, "We'll meet you in Cleveland next Fourth of July." Derry Down, Down, Down, Derry Down. Through Louse Island passage it blew a fresh breeze. We made the Foxes, the Beavers and Skillagel We flew by the Minch for to show her the way, And she ne'er hove in sight till we were off Thunder Bay. Derry Down, Down, Down, Derry Down. oss Saginaw Bay the Roberts did ride, With the dark and deep water rolling over her side, And now for Port Huron the Roberts must go, Where the tug Kate Williams she took us in tow. Derry Down, Down, Down, Derry Down. We went through North passage — oh, Lord, how it blew! And all 'round the Dummy a large fleet there came, too; The night being dark, Old Nick it would scare. We hove up next morning and for Cleveland did steer. t Derry Down, Down r Down, Derry Down. Now the Roberts is in Cleveland, made fast stem and stern, And over the bottle we'll spin a big yarn, 13 But Captain Harvey Shannon had ought to stand treat For getting into Cleveland ahead of the fleet. Perry Down, Down, Down, Derry Down. Now 1113' song it is ended, I hope you won't laugh, Our dunnage is packed and all hands are paid off; Here is health to the Roberts, she's staunch, strong and true, Not forgotten the bold boys that comprise lie*r crew. Derry Down, Down, Down, Derry Down. THE CHARGE AT FREDRICKSBURG. It was just before the last fierce charge, Two soldiers drew their rein, With a parting word and touch of the hand, They might never meet again; One had blue eyes and sunny curls, Nineteen but a month ago, Red on his cheek, down on his chin, He was only a boy, you know. The other was dark and tall and stern, His fate in the world was dim. He trusted more in those he lovecl. They were all the world to him. They had ridden together in many a raid, They had marched for many a mile, But never before had they met the foe With a calm and hopeful smile. Now they looked into each other's eye With an awful, ghastly gloom. The tall, dark man was first to speak, Saying, "Charlie, my hour has come, Together we'll ride up the hill, But you'll ride back alone; But it is little trouble for me take When I am dead and gone. "You will find- a fond face breast, I'll wear it in the fight, With soft blue eyes and sunny curls That shine like morning light: Like morning light was her love for me, She gladdened my weary life, And it's little I cared for the frowns of fate When she promised to be my wife. 14 "Write to her. Charlie, when I am gone, Send back that fond, sweet face, And tell her tenderly how I died, I where's my resting place; Tell her my soul will wait for h In the* border land between; This earth is' Heaven until she comes, It will not be long, I wene." Tears dimmed the blue eyes of the b< His voice grew hoarse with pain. Saying, "111 do your bidding. Comrade mine, I ride back again ; But if you ride back and I am dead. You will do the same for me ; My Mother at home must hear fhe news. So write to her tenderly. "One after another of those she loved She buried both husband and son; I was the last my country caller, She kissed and sent me on. She is praying a t home like a waiting saint, With her fond face white with w Her heart will be broke when I am gone, I will see her soon, I know." Just then the order came to charge. For an instant hand touched hand. Aye answered aye and on they went, That brave, devoted band: Straight on they went to the crest of the hill, Where the rebels with shot and shell Mowed rifts of death in our toiling rani And jeered them as they fell. They turned with an awful, dying yell From the heights they could not gain. And those that death and doom had spared Rode slowly back again: In the midst of their dead they have left behind The boy with the curly hair. And the tall, dark man that rode by his side Lay dead alone with him there. There is none to write to that lovely girl The words that her lover said, And the mother that waits for her boy at home Will onlv hear, "He's dead." And never will know the last fond thoughts That sought to soften her pain, Until she crosses the border land And stands by his side again. 'SHAUGHANESEY. Oh, me name it is O'Shaughanesey, the truth I now will tell to ye. I work upon the section and I am an Irishman; But some brakemen came the other day and unto myself these words did say, "O'Shaughanesey, you must away to go braking on the train/' They took me out into the yard, they put in me hand a big time card, They told me braking wasn't hard, if I was only game. They put on me head a railroad cap, they said it belonged to Oliver Spratt, Another dacent Irish chap that was braking on the train. They sent me out on Number Tin, 'twas then me troubles did begin, And where in the divil they all came in it nearly racked me brain; For one would send me for a pin, the other would fire me back again, And they kept me running from end to end when I was brak- ing on the train. They sent me after some red "ile," with the boys I had a terri- ble trial, The boss sair he was out of it, but told me to call again ; I axed him for a flat car key, 'twas then his eye he winked at me, Saying, "I think your name is O'Shaughanesey that's braking on the train. We had a dale of switching to do in a yard, on meself it came most mighty hard, And how in the divil it happened I'm sure I never can tell; For they sent me to make a flying switch, meself and the box- car went in the ditch, The conductor called me a son of a b — when I was braking on the train. They sent me out on the upper deck, I thought I'd surely break me neck, 16 I hung onto the running board until both me hands were sore; 'Twas then I thought about me sins, for I could hardly stand upon me pins, Oh, God, forgive me if ever again I go braking on a train! The engine got stuck and the cars came back, and they sent me back to take the slack, I hunted all around for it, but hunted all in vain. The conductor he did loudly yell, "Set up that brake, damn your soul to hell, Oh, what a misfortune on me befell when I went braking on a train. My Sunday pants were minus a sate, I tore them out unloading freight, And through a hole as big as Xew York my skin showed clear and clane; The boys were laughing all the while, saying, " 'Shaughanesey, where did you get your style?" My blood with madness fairly biled when I was braking on the train. THE LASS OF MOHE. [ went a- walking one morning in May, For fond recreation the time passed away, As I sat amusing myself by a pass There chanced to come along a fine Indian lass. She sat down beside me, took hold of my hand, Saying, "You are a stranger, far from your own land, But if you will go with me you are welcome to come, For I live by myself in a snug little home." The sun was a-sinkina* down in the salt sea When I went a-walking with a lass of Mohe; We walked and we talked till we came to her home, And there stood her cot in a cocoanut grove. I tarried all night till the day did appear, My ship being ready, for home I must steer, "Good morning, good morning, fare you well, oh, my dear, My ship it is ready and for home I must steer." With the J fondest expression this fair one did say, "If you will stay with me and not go away, If you will stay with me and leave the salt sea, I will teach you the language of the Isle of Mohe." 17 I said, "My fair lady, that never can be, For I have a true sweetheart in my own country/ And I would not forsake her for her poverty. Her face is more fair than the lass of Mbhe. And now T am home in my own native land. And friends and relations around me do stand, But of all that come near me or of all that I see, There is none can compare witli the lass of Moiae. For this Indian lass she was modest and kind. She acted her part so beautiful and fine, When I was a stranger she took me to her home, And 111 think on the Mohe as I wander alone. THE APPRENTICE BOY. Near Linster I was born, not of a high degree, My parents they adored, me, they had no child but me; I roved around for pleasure where'er my fancy lay, Until I was bound apprentice, then all joys passed away. My master and my mistress they did not use me well, I formed a resolution not long with them to dwell ; So, unknown to friends and kindred, I slyly stole away, And steered my course to Dublin, to me a woeful day. I had not been in Dublin a day but only three When an estated lady proposed to hire me; She offered great inducements her waiting man to be, If I would go with her to London, which proved my destiny. Her offer I accepted, my fortune being low. In hopes of grand promotion if along with her I'd go; And as we sailed over-bound for that British shore, It is little I thought I ne'er would see my native country more. When we arrived in London to view that fine city, My evil-minded mistress grew very fond of me; She offered me ten thousand pounds to be paid down in hand, If I'd agree to marry her it would be at my command. "Qh. mistress, honored mistress, you must excuse me now, For I am already promised upon a solemn vow; Yes, I am already "promised, and a solemn vow I've made, To wed with none but Jennie, your handsome waiting maid." In wrath and indignation my evil mistress said. 18 "Just see how I am slighted all for a servant maid: ;e you disdain my person and the offer that I make, It 's of you I will have revenge though my life lay as a stake. ' • ''-Oh, mistress, to offend thee I would be very loath, But I can do nothing that's contrary to my oath; Contrary to my oath, madam, but supposing my vows were clear, I would not part with my jewel for ten thousand pounds a year." One evening in the garden, a-taking in the air, My mistress followed after me. plucking the flowers there: Her gold repeating watch she took at the passing of me by, And conveyed it to my pocket, for "which I now must die. I then was apprehended, to Xew Gate I was sent, Where I was left in bondage, my sorrows to lament: Where I was left in bondage until my trial day. My mistress thought it was no harm to swear my life away. And now I am on the gallows and I must suffer here, Because I would not break the vows I made unto my dear; Though far from home and kindred, I bid the world adieu, My charming, lovely Jennie, I die for love of you. THE BIGLEITS CREW. Come all my boys and listen, a song I'll sing to you, It's all about the Bigler and of her jolly crew; In Milwaukee last October I chanced to get a sight In the schooner called the Bigler belonging to Detroit. Chorus — Watch her, catch her. jump up on her juber ju, her the sheet and let her slide, the boys will push 1 her through. You ought to seen us howling, the winds were blowing free, On our passage down to Buffalo from Milwaukee, It was on a Sunday morning about the. hour of ten, The Robert Emmet towed us out into Lake Michigan: We set sail Where she left us in the middle of the fleet, And the wind being from the southard, oh, we had to give her she Then the wind chopped 'round to the sou souwest and blew both fresh and strong. But softly through Lake Michigan the Bigler she rolled on, And far beyond her foaming bow the dashing waves did fling, 19 With every stitch of canvas set, her course was wing and wing. But the wind it came' ahead before we reached Hie Manitous, Three dollars and a half a day just suited the Bigler 's .crew; From there unto the Beavers we steered her full and by, And we kept her to the wind, my boys, as close as she could lie. Through Skillagelee and Wabble Shanks the entrance to the Straits, We might have passed the big fleet there if they'd hove to and wait, But we drove them. on before us the nicest ever you saw, Out into Lake Huron from the Straits of Mackinaw. We made Presque Isle Light and then we boomed away, The wind it being fair, for the Isle of Thunder Bay, But when the wind it shifted, we hauled her on her starboard tack, With a good lookout ahead for the Light of the Point AuBarques.' We made the Light and kept in sight of Michigan North Shore, A -booming for the river as we'd oft times done before, When right abreast Port Huron Light our small anchor we let go, And the Sweepstakes came alongside and took the Bigler in tow. The Sweepstakes took eight in tow and all of us fore and aft, She towed us down to Lake St. Clare and stuck us on the flats, She parted the Hunter's tow line in trying to give relief, And stem and stern went the Bigler into the boat called Maple Leaf. The Sweepstakes then she towed us outside the River Light, Lake Erie for to roam and the blustering winds to fight; The wind being from the southard we paddled our own canoe, With her nose pointed for the Dummv, she's hell bent for Buffalo. We made the OH and passed long Point, the wind was blowing free, We fowled along the Canada shore, Port Colborne on our lea: What is it "that looms up ahead, so well known as we draw near, For like a blazing star. shone the light on Buffalo Pier. And now we are safely landed in Buffalo Creek at last, And under Rfiggs' elevator the Bigler she's made fast, And in some Lager beer saloon we'll let the bottle pass, For we are jolly shipmates and we'll drink a social glass. 20 DONNELY AND COOPER, Come, all you true bred Irishmen, I hope you will lend ear, Unto as true a story as ever you did hear, Concerning Cooper and Donnely, they fought on sweet Kildare. It was on the tenth of June, my boys, that the challenge was sent o'er, From Britania to old Granua to raise her sons once more, To renew her satisfaction their courage to arrear, Saying, "I hope you will meet Cooper at the Curragh of Kil- dare." Old Granua read the message, she read it with a smile, Saying, "You had better hasten to Kildare, my well beloved child, For there you, will reign victorious, as you have often done before, And your deeds will shine most glorious all around the Sham- rock Shore." After long hesitation bold Donnely did prepare, To go with Captain Kelley to the Curragh of Kildare; The English Lords bet ten to one that day against poor Dan, But such odds as this ne'er could dismiss the blood of an Irish- man. "When those two burly champions were stripped off in the ring, Both fully were determined each other's blood to bring; From eight to nine they parried, when Donnely knocked him down. Well done, my child, and old Granua smiled, saying, ' ' That wins one thousand pounds. Cooper, being active, he knocked down Donnely, But Donnely, being of true blood, he rose right manfully ; Cooper, being active, knocked Donnely down again, Those English Peers they gave three cheers, saying, "The battle is all in vain." Here is long life to one Miss Kelley, who was that day' upon the plain; She boldly stepped into the ring, saying, "Dan, what do you mane? You are as true an Irishman the Gentry all may see, My whole estate this day I 've bet upon you, Donnely. ' ' "You need not fear, I am not beat, although I've had a fall, I will let him know before he goes that he will pay for all." Cooper stood on kis own defense,^ exertion failed to show, 21 Until Donncly gave him a temple blow that proved his over- throw. Oh, you sons of proud Britainia, your boasting' how recall, Since Cooper he by Donnely has met his sad downfall; Out of eleven rounds he got nine knockdowns, besides broke his jawbone; Well done, my child, and ould Granua smiled, saying, "The dav is all our own." SKIBBEREEN. Father, dear, I often hear you speak of Erin's Isle, It seems so bright and beautiful, so rich and rare the soil; You say it is a bounteous land wherein a prince might dwell, Then why did you abandon it, the reason to me tell. My son, I loved my native land with favor and with pride, Her peaceful groves, her mountains rude, her valleys green and wide; It was there I lived in manhood's prime and sported when a boy, The Shamrock and Shillalah was my constant boast and joy. But lo! a blight came o'er my crops, my sheep and cattle died, The rent ran due, the taxes, too, I ne'er could have supplied; The landlord turned me from the cot where born had I been, And that, my boy, is the reason why I left old Skibbereen. It is well do I remember that dark November day, When the landlord and the sheriff came to drive us all away; They set the roof a-blazing with a demon yell of Spleen, And when it fell the crash was heard all over Skibbereen. Your mother, too, God rest her soul, fell on the snowy ground, And fainted in her anguish at the desolation around- • She ne'er recovered, but passqd away from life to Malchasene, And found a grave of quiet rest in poor old Skibbereen. Then sadly I recall the days of gloomy Ninety-eight, I rose in vengeance with the boys to battle again' fate; We were hunted through the mountains as traitors to the queen, And that, my boy, is the reason why I left old Skibbereen. You then, my son, was scare three years old and feeble was your frame, I would not leave you with my friends, you bore my Father's name; I wrapped you in my kosamane, at dead of night unseen, I hove a sigh and bade good-bye to poor old Skibbereen. 22 Then, father, father ! when the day for. vengeance they will call, When Irishmen- o'er field and fin will rally one and all, I will be the man to lead the band beneath the flag so green, "While loud on high we will raise the cry, ''Revenge for Skib- bereen." COLLEEN BAWN. In. the golden fields of Limerick, Close by the Shannon stream. There lives a maid that holds my heart, And haunts it like a dream; With shining showers of golden hair, As gentle as a fawn. Her cheeks would make the red rose pale, My darling Colleen Bawn. Her hands are whiter than the snow, Upon the mountain side, And softer than the creamy foam, That floats upon the tide; Her teeth like drops of pearly dew, That sparkles on the lawn, Oh, the sunshine of my life she is, My darling Colleen Bawn. Although she seldom speaks to me, I think on her with pride. For seven long years I courted her, And asked her to be my bride; But dreary spells of cold neglect Is all from her I have drawn, For I'm but a poor laboring boy, And she's the Colleen Bawn. And to leave old Ireland far behind Is oft times in my mind, To go roaming for some other bride, And country for to find; But I have seen some low spalpeens, Upon her footsteps vaughn, Which keeps me near to guard my dear, My darling Colleen Bawn. The ladies of. Limerick have that way, Throughout old Erin's Isle, 23 They have fought upon the city walls, As they did in days of yore; They have kept away the enemy, All night until the dawn, . And most worthy of the title Is my darling Colleen Bawn. HEENAN AND SAYERS. It was in merry England, the home of Johnnie Bull, Where Britons fill their glasses, t]±ey fill them brimming full, And of the toast they drank it was to Briton's brave, And it is long may our champion bring victories o'er the wave. Tlien up jumps Uncle Sammy, and he looks across the main, Saying, "Is that your English bully I hear bellowing again? Oh, has he not forgotten the giant o'er the pond, Who used to juggle cannon balls when his day's work was done? "Remember, Uncle Johnnie, the giant stronger grows, He is always on his muscle and ready 'for his foes; When but a boy at Yorktown I caused you for to sigh, So when e'er vou boast of fighting, Johnnie Bull, mind your •eye." It was in merry England, all in the blooming spring, When this burly English champion he stripped off in the ring, He stripped to fight young Heenan, our gallant son of Troy, And to try his English muscle on our bold Benicia boy. There were two brilliant flags, my boys, a-f loating o 'er the ring, The British were a lion all ready for a spring, The Yankee was an eagle, and an awful bird she was, For she carried^a bunch of thunderbolts well fastened in her claws. The coppers they were tossed, me boys, the fighting did begin, It was two to one on Savers the bets came rolling in ; They fought like loyal heroes, until one received a blow, And the red crimson torrent from our Yankee's nose did flow. "First blood, first blood, my Tommy boy," the English cried with joy, The English cheer their hero while the bold Benicia boy, The tiger rose within him, like lightning flared his eye, Saving, "Mark aivay, old England, but Tommie, mind your *eye." 24 The last grand round of all, my boys, this world has ne'er seen beat, When the son of Uncle Sammy raised the Champion from his feet, His followers did smile while he held him in the air, And from his grasp he flung him, which caused the English men to stare. Come, all you sporting Americans, wherever you have strayecl, Look on this glorious eagle and never be afraid; May our Union last forever and our Flag the world defy, So whenever you boast of fighting, Johnnie Bull, mind your eye. / YOUNG MUNROE. Come all you jolly shanty boys, wherever you may be, I hope you'll pay attention and listen unto me, Concerning a young shanty boy so manfully and brave, It was on a jam at Garray's rocks where he met with a watery grave. It was on a Sunday morning as you will quickly hear, Our logs were piling mountain high, we could not keep them clear, . When the boss he cries, ''Turn out, me boys, with hearts devoid of fear, To break the jam on Garry's rocks and for Eagantown we'll steer. ' ' Some of them were willing, while others they hung back, To work upon a Sunday they did not think was right, Until six of our young Canadians they volunteered to go, And break the jam on Garry's rocks with their foreman, young Munroe. They had not rolled off many logs when the boss to them did say, "I would have you to be on your guard, for this jam will soon give way. "* Those words were scarcely spoken when the jam did break and go, And carried away those six young men with their foreman, young Munroe. • ' When the rest of those young shanty boys they came, the news to hear, In search of their dead bodies for the river they did steer, When one of their lifeless bodies found to their sad grief and woe, 25 All cut and mangled on the rocks was the form of young Munroe. They took him from his watery grave, combed down his coal- black hair, There was one fair form among them whose cries did rend the air ; There was one fair form among them, a girl from Saginaw town, Her tears and cries would rend the skies for her lover that was drowned. Miss Clara was a nohle girl, likewise a raftsman's friend, Her mother was a widow living by the river's bend, The wages of her own true love the boss to her did pay, And a liberal subscription she received from the shanty boys next day. They took and buried him decently, being on the tenth of May, And the rest of you young shanty boys, it's for your comrade pray ! It is engraved on a little hemlock tree, close by his head it does grow, The day and date of the drowning of this hero, young Munroe. Miss Clara did not survive long to her sad grief and woe; It was less than two weeks after she, too. was called to go, It was less than two keeks after she, too, was called to go, And her last request was granted her, to be laid by young Munroe. Now, any of you shanty boys that would like to go and see, On a little mound by the river side there grow T s a hemlock tree; The shanty boy cuts the woods all round, two lovers here lie low, Here lies Miss Clara Dennison and her lover, young Munroe. JERRY, GO OIL THE CAR. Come, all you railroad section hands, I hope you will draw near, And likewise pay attention to these few lines you'll hear, Concerning one Larrj^ Sullivan, alas, he is no more, He sailed some forty years ago from the green old Irish shore. For four and thirty weary years he worked upon the track, And the truth to say from the very first day he never had a wreck, For he made it a point to keep up the lower joints with the force of the tamping bar; Joint ahead and center back and Jerry go oil the car. 26 To see old Larry in the winter time when the hills were clad with snow, It was his "pride on his handcar to ride as over the section he'd go, With his big* soldier coat buttoned up to his throat, sure he looked like an Emperor, And while the boys were shimming up the ties, sure Jerry would be oiling the car. When Sunday morning came around to the section hands he'd say, "I suppose you all know that my wife is going to Mass today, And I Avant every man for to pump all he can, for the distance it is very far, And I'd like to get in ahead of number ten, so Jerry go oil the car." "And now when my friends are gathered around, there is one request I crave, When I am dead and gone to my rest, place the handcar on my grav Let the spike mawl rest upon my breast with the gauge and the old clawbar, And while the boys are lowering me down, lare Jerry to be oiling the car." "Give my regards to the roadmaster, " poor Larry he did cry, "And rise me up so I may see the handcar before I die." He was so wake lie could hardly spake, in a moment he was dead ; "Joint ahead and center back," were the very last words he said. Remarks by Mrs. Sullivan. God bless you, Larry Sullivan, to me you was kind and good, For me you'd make the section hands go out and cut the wood, To the well also for water they would go, and chop the kin- dling fine. And if any of them would growl, upon my soul, he'd dam soon get his time. And now that he is dead I want it to be said that the cars they never got a jar; Joint ahead and center back and Jerry go oil the car. THE OLD ELM] TREE. I am sitting there, I'm dreaming now, Beneath the wide and spreading boughs, 27 And the golden willows are bending low On the green mossy banks where the violets grow; And the wild birds are singing the same sweet lays That charms me in dreams of the dear old days, When Laura, my beautiful, sat by me, On the moss covered seat 'neath the old elm tree. It was there with the bright blue sky above, I told her the tale of my heart's true love, And it was there ere the blossoms of summer died, She gave me her promise to be my bride. Little I thought ere I would return from the dark blue sea, They would make her a grave 'neath the old elm tree. Oh, cruel and false were the tales they told, How my heart was untrue to my own love cold, How my present heart had another dear, Forgetting the promise I made her here; Until her cheeks grew pale with her heart-broken pain, And those beautiful lips never smiled again, But she silently wept where none could see, She wept for the past 'neath the old elm tree. She died and they parted her sunny hair, On her marble brow death left so fair, And they made har a grave where the fair young flowers Could bloom by her side in the long summer hours; Oh, Laura, dear Laura, my heart's best love, We will meet in the angels' home above; Earth holds no treasure so dear to me As the moss covered grave 'neath the old elm tree. THE U. S. A. "Tell me, daddy, tell me, why the men in yonder crowd, Can you tell me why they are marching, why each due looks so proud ? ' ' "Listen, lad," he answered, " 'tis the tune the brass band plays, 'Tis the song 'My Country 'Tis of Thee,' and you know well what it says. "Heroes bold in battle both our grandpas fought and fell, 'Mid the cannon's roar and rattle so freedom here might dwell; Washington and Jackson, Lincoln, Grant and Lee, They're the men that made us what we are on the land and on the sea. "No matter where you ramble, no matter where you roam, 2$ You never have to ponder on a place to call your home; When they ask you, lad, where were you born, turn proudly 'round and say That vour home is the land of Uncle Sam, the U. S. A." PERSIAN'S CREW. Sad and dismal is the story that I will tell to you, About the schooner Persia, her officers and crew; They sank beneath the waters deep in life to rise no more, Where wind and desolation sweeps Lake Huron's rock bound shore. They left Chicago on their lee, their songs they did resound, Their hearts were filled with joy and glee, for they were home- ward bound; They little thought the sword of death would meet them on their way. And they so full of joy and life would in Lake Huron lay. In mystery o'er their fate was sealed, they did collide, some say, And that is all that will be revealed until the judgment day; Put when the angels take their stand to sweep these waters blue. They will summon forth at Heaven's command the Persian's luckless crew. Xo mother's hand was there to soothe the brow's distracted pain, gentle wife for to carress those cold lips once again ; No sister nor a lover dear or little ones to moan, But in the deep alone they sleep, far from their friends and home. * Her captain, he is no more, he lost his precious life, He sank dowui among Lake Huron's waves, free from all mortal strife ; A barren coast now hides from view his manly, lifeless form, And still in death is the heart so true that weathered many a storm. There was Daniel Sullivan, her mate, with a heart as true and brave, As ever was compelled by fate to fill a sailor 's grave ; Alas, he lost his noble life, poor Daniel is no more, He met a sad, untimely end upon Lake Huron's shore. Oh, Daniel, Dan, your many friends mourn the fate that lias on you frowned, They look in vain for your return back to Oswego town; 29 They miss the love glance of your eye, your hand they'll clasp no more, For still in death you now do lie upon Lake Huron's shore. Her sailors' names I did not know, excepting one or two, Down in the deep they all did go, they were a luckless crew; Not one escaped to land to clear the mystery o'er, Or to lie adrift by Heaven's command in lifeless form ashore. Now around Presque Isle the sea birds scream their mournful notes along, In chanting to the Sad requiem, the mournful funeral song; They skim along the waters blue and then aloft they soar, O'er the bodies of the Persian's crew that lie along the shore. JIM FISK. If you will listen awhile I will sing you a song About this glorious land of the free, And the difference I'll show between the rich and the poor, In a trial by jury, you see. If you have plenty of money you can hold up your head, And walk out from your own prison door, But they'll hang you up high if you've no friends or gold, Let the rich go, but hang up the poor. In trial by jury we have nowadays, The rich men get off swift and sure, While they've thousands to pay both the jury and judge, 'You can bet they'll go back on the poor. Let me speak of a man who is now in his grave, A better man never was born; -Jim Fisk he was called and his money he gave - To the outcast, the poor and forlorn. We all know he loved both women and wine, But his heart it was right, I am sure. Though he lived like a prince in his palace so fine, He never went back on the poor. If a man was in trouble he would help him along, To drive the grim wolf from the door, He strove to do right, though he may have done wrong, But he never went back on the poor. Jim Fisk was a man with his heart in his hand, No matter what people might say. And he did all his deeds, both the good and the bad, 30- Iii tlie broad, open light of the clay. With his £rarid six-in-hand on the beajm at Long Branch, Pie cut a big dash, to be sure, But C 's great lire showed the world that Jim Fisl< "With his wealth still remembered the poor. When a telegram came that the homeless that night Were starving- to death slow but sure, The Lightning Express, manned by ftoble Jim Fisk, Flew to feed all her hungry and poor. Now what do you think of the trial of Stokes, Who murdered the friend of the poor? When such men get free is there any one safe. If they step outside of their own door? Is there a law for the rich and one for the poor ? It seems so, at least so they say, If they hang up the poor, why hadn't the rich Ought to swing up the very same way? Don't show any favor to friend or to foe, The beggar or prince at your door, u always do right you will get your reward, If you never go back on the poor. BEN BOLT. Oh, don't you remember Sweet Alice, Ben Bolt, Sweet Alice whose hair was so brown, Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile, And trembled with fear at your frown ? In the old church-yard in the valley, Ben Bolt, In a corner obscure and alone, They have fitted a slab of the granite so gray, And sweet Alice lies under the stone; They have- fitted a slab of the granite so gray, And sweet Alice lies under the stone. Under the hickory tree, Ben Bolt, Which stood at the foot of the hill, Together we've lain in the noon-day shade, And listened to Appleton's mill. The mill-wheel has fallen to pieces, Ben' Bolt, The rafters have tumbled in, And a quiet that crawls 'round the walls as you gaze, Has followed the olden din ; 31 And a quiet that crawls 'round the walls as yon gaze, Has followed life olden din. And don't yon remember the, school, Ben Bolt, With the master so kind and so true, And the shaded nook by the running brook, Where the fairest wild flowers grew? Grass grows on the master's grave, Ben Bolt, The spring of the brook is dry, And of all the boys that w r ere school-mates then, There are only yon and I; And of all the boys that were school-mates then, There are only you and I. There is change in the things I loved, Ben Bolt, They have changed from the old to the new; But I feel in the depths of my spirit the truth, There never was a change in you. Twelve months twenty times have past, Ben Bolt, Since first we were friends, yet I hail Thy presence a blessing, thy friendship a truth, Ben Bolt of the salt sea gale ; Thy presence a blessing, thy friendship a truth, Ben Bolt of the salt sea gale. TO MORRlOW. I started on a journey just about a w r eek ago, To the little town of Morrow 7 , in the State of Ohio; I never was a traveler and really did not know, That Morrow had been ridiculed a century or so; I went down to the depot for my ticket and applied For tips regarding Morrow,, not expecting to be guj^ed. Said I, "My friend, I want to go to Morrow and return Not later than tomorrow, for I haven't time to burn." Said he to me, "Now, let me see if I have heard you right, You want to go to Morrow and come back to-morrow night; To go from here to Morrow and return is quite a way, You should have gone to Morrow yesterday and back today; For if you started yesterday to Morrow, don't you see, You could have gone to Morrow and returned to-day at three. The train that started yesterday, now understand me right, Today gets to Morrow and returns to-morrow night." Said I, "My friend, it seems to me you're talking through your hat, 32 1 a town named Morrow on your fine, now tell me that?" ''There is," says he, "and take from me a quiet little»tip, ■o from here to Morrow is a fourteen-hour trip; The train that goes to Morrow leaves today eight thirty-five, Half after ten to-morrow is the time it should arrive; Now if from here to Morrow is a fourteen-hour jump, in you go to-day to Morrow and get back to-day, you chump ?" Says I, "I want to go to Morrow, can I go today, And get to Morrow by to-night if there is no delay?" 11, well," says he, "explain to me, and I've no more to say, How can you go anywhere to-morrow and get back today? if to-day you start to Morrow, it's a cinch you'll land morrow into Morrow, not to-day, you understand; •r the train to-day to Morrow, if the schedule is right, It will get you into Morrow by about to-morrow night." Says I, "I guess you know it all, but kindly let me say, How can I go to Morrow if I leave the town today?" says, "Yon cannot go to Morrow any more to-day, For the train that goes to Morrow is a mile upon its way." 1 was so disappointed, I was mad enough to swear, The train had gone to Morrow and left me standing there; The man was right in telling me I was a howling jay, I didn't go to Morrow, so I guess I'll go today. THE LADY LEROY. I went a-walking one morning in May, to view those fine meadows, all nature seemed gay, I espied a young couple on old Erin's green shore, A-viewing the oc^an where the wild billows roar. '•Sally, dear Sally, you're the girl I adore, And to be parted from you it grieves my heart sore, But your parents are rich, love, and they're angry at me, And were I to stay with you our ruin it- would be." When she heard him say this she dressed herself in men's clothes away to her father she instantly goes; She purchased a vessel, paid him down his demand, But little he knew it was from his own daughter's hand. Then to her true lover she went right away, bade him get ready without further delay, So they hoisted their topsails and colors let fly, And she sailed o'er the ocean, the Lady Leroy. 33 When her old father heard this, in grief and despair, Straightway to his Captain lie soon did repair, Saying, ''.Pursue and overtake them and his life destroy, For he ne'er will enjoy the fair Lady Leroy." Then proud of his message this bold Captain goes, As if for to conquer some bold, daring foes ; He spies a large vessel, her colors let fly, He hails her and finds she's the Lady Leroy. "Now turn back to Erin, to Erin's iiverley jumped up in a rage, And she threatened Mrs. Mullin 's life; ould Denny Mullin, "I'll bate the first man ' That'd dare lay a hand on me wife." as aiid tl ans had an ould grudge, And the MUrphys pitched into the Flynns, They upset the cradle, tipped over the bed, . And they smothered the two little tv THE LASS OF DUXMORE. went a-walking one morning, Bright Phoebus so clearly did shine. And the meadow larks warbled melodious, While the rose in the valleys did twine ; It was there I beheld a fair maid. It was down by a grove where I wandered, A while to repose in the shade, On my destiny there for to ponder, I raised up on my feet for to view her, And those tender words I cHd say, "Who are you, my fairest of creatures? How far through this grove do you stray ! She answered, "Kind sir, I will tell you, And the truth unto you I deplore, It's a matter that's lately befell me, My dwelling place is down in Dunmore. "Oh, once I did love a bold v seaman, And he, too my fond heart had gained, No mortal on earth could love dearer, But now he is crossing the main, 47 With Nelson, that hero of battle. In the English navy so brave, Where cannons and guns loud do rattle, For to fight the proud French on the wave." "Then perhaps that your true love-is drowned, And he ne'er will return home again, For many a man has fallen a victin* With Nelson while crossing the main; And thft same thing might happen to your love, As it's happened to others before, So it's come with 'me now, I pray, darling. And leave the dark shades of Dunmore." "Oh. how could I be so unfaithful To a heart that is constant and true, To leave my own father's dwelling And to venture my fortunes with you ? Oh, the people would call me unconstant. For it's truly to him I am swor€, And true lovers ne'er, should be parted, I'll wait for that lad in Dunmore." Then says I, "My fair, tender blossom. The spring time of life soon will be o'e And the October leaves will be falling, They will fade the fair Rose of Dunmore." When I found that her heart was a-yielding, Like I've found it with others before, Oh, I packed up my all for Rqnfralen, And I stole the fair Rose of Dunmore. TEDDY McGRAW. Come, all of you Hibernian sons, I '11 tell you how the war begun, It was caused by Mrs. McGraw and son, and that's the way the war begun. With me ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah — my son was a Teddy McGraw. Mrs. McGraw to the Captain did say, my son Teddy is bold and brave, Put on his head a golden cap blood and ounds, Teddy, what do you think of that? With me ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah — my son was a Teddy McGraw. Teddy sailed across the say and he fought in the war for many a day, 48 ought in at Timbuctoo, "With me ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah — my son was a Teddy McGraw. Then • -Graw wen; to the shore and she waited there for seven years or more. ■>ied a ship far out at say. blood and ounds, it's a warning; clear t; With me ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah — my son was a Teddy McGraw. Teddy landed without in the place of them he had wooden When he'd embraced his mother a time or two she says, "Teddy, dear, sure it is not you, With me ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah — my son was a Teddy McGraw. Oh, was you drunk or was yon blind when you left your two legs far behind. Or was you -ore your legs off to the kne With me ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah — my son was a Teddy McGraw. I was nather drunk or was T blind whin I left my two legs far behind. But when a mighty cannon ball. WPIOO! it took me legs off, brogues and all. With me ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah — my son was a Teddy McGraw. A mighty war I will proclaim again' the king and queen of Spain, And I will make them rue the day when they shot the legs off me child away, "With me ran-tan-ah-toor-a-nah — my son was a Teddy McGraw. AS I RODE DOWN THROUGH IRISHTOAVX. As I rode down through Irishtown one evening last July, The mother of a soldier in tears I did espy, Saying, "God be with you, Johnnie dear, although you are far away, For you my heart is breaking since you went to the Crimea. "Oh, Johnnie. I gave you schooling, I gave you a trade likewise, You need not have joined the army if you had taken my advise, You need not go to face the foe where cannons loud do roar, Think of the thousands that have fallen now upon that Russian shore. He joined the Fourteenth regiment, it was a splendid corp, 49 They landed honorable mention upon the Russian shore; He fought in foreign engagements with the loss of men each day, And there is many a mother shedding tears for sons that are far away. "You fought at Kurksharosko where you did not succeed, Likewise at the valley .of Inkcrman, where thousands there did bleed, You fought at Balaklava, too it was there you gained the day, And my darling is a hero although he's far away. ''It was when Ave attacked Sebastapool, it was there you' some play, . The very ground we stood upon it shook, the truth I say, The clouds were black with heavy smoke from bomb shells firing there, And thousands weltering in their blood that went to fight the Bear. "TheJ, English said they would gain the seas whate'er might be their doom, And thousands there a-falling, cut down in their youthful bloom, There Paddy's sons with English guns their valor did display, And together with the sons of France, thank God, we gained the day. "Had your heart been made of iron for them you would shed tears, To see those heroes falling, cut down in their youthful years, To see those heroes falling and weltering in their gore, Par from their home and friends, iny boys, upon that Russian shore. "So now to end and finish and to conclude my song, I thank the God above me for having survived so long, Likewise my poor old mother, 'twas her I did adore, And I hope, dear mother, to meet you safe in Garryowne once more. JACK KOGERS. Come, all you tender Christians, I hope you will lend ear, And likewise pay attention to those few lines you'll hear, For the murder of Mr. Swanton I am condemned to die, On the twelfth day of November upon the gallows high. My name it is Jac k Rogers, a name I'll ne'er deny, 50 Which leaves nn aged parents in sorrow for to cry.. It's little did they ever think, all in my youthful bloom, That I would into New York to meet my awful doom. parents reared me tenderly as you can plainly see, I constant good advice they used to give to me; They told me to shun night walking* and all bad company. Or state's prison or the gallows would be the doom of me. But it was in play-houses and saloons I used to take delight, And constantly my comrades they would me there invil I^oft tin old by them that the use of knives was free, Arid I might commit some murder and hanged I ne'er would be. [p. Swanton and his wife were walking down the street, All in a drunken passion I chanced them for to meet, I own they did not harm me, the same I'll ne'er deny. But Satan being so near me, I could not pass them by. I staggered up against him, 'twas then he turned around, Demanding half the sidewalk, also his share of ground, 'Twas then I drew that fatal knife and stabbed him to the heart, Which caused that beloved wife from her husband there to part. It was then I went to Trenton, thinking to escape, But the hand of Providence was before me. indeed I was too late, It was there I was taken prisoner and brought unto the Toombs, For to die upon the gallows, all in my youthful bloom. I am thankful to the sheriff, who has been so kind to me, Likewise my worthy counsellors, who thought to set me free, And also to the clergyman, who brought me in mind to bear, For to die a true penitent I solemnly do declare. The day of my execution it was heartrending to see, My sister came from Jersey to take farewell of me, She threw herself into my arms and bitterly did cry, Saying, "Mfcr well beloved brother, this day you have to die." - And now my joys are ended, from this wide world I must part, For the murder' of Mr. Swanton I'm sorry to the heart; Come, all you young ambitious youths, a warning take from me, Be guided by your parents and shun bad company. SHANTY BOY, As I walked out one evening just as the sun went down, So carelessly I wandered to a place called Stroner town, 51 There I heard two maids conversing as slowly I passed *by, One said she loved her farmer's son, and the other her shanty boy. The one that loved her farmer's son those words I heard her say, The reason why she loved him, at home with her he'd stay, He would stay at home all winter, to the woods he would not go, And when the spring it did come in his grounds he'd plow and sow. "All for to plow and sow your land," the other girl did say, If the crops should prove a failure your debts you couldn't pay; If the crops should prove a failure, or the grain market be low, The sheriff often sells you out to pay the debts yon owe. ' ' "As for the sheriff selling the lot, it does not me alarm, For there's no need of going in debt if you are on a good farm; You make your bread from off the land, need not work through storms and rain, While your shanty boy works hard each day his family to maintain." "I only love my shanty boy who goes out in the fall, He is both stout and hardy, well fit for every squall; With pleasure I'll receive him in the spring when he comes home, And his money free he will share with me when your farmer's son has none." "Oh, why do you love a shanty boy, to the wild w T oods he must go, He is ordered out before daylight to work through rain and snow, While happy and contented my farmer's son can lie, And tell to me seme tales of love as the, cold winds whistle by." "I don't see why you love a farmer," the other girl did say, "The most of them they are so green the cows would eat for ha} r ; It is easy you may know them whenever they're in town, The small boys run up to them saviner, 'Rube, how are vou down?'" , "For what I have said of your shanty boy I hope you will pardon me, And from that ignorant mossback I hope to soon get free, And if ever I get rid of him for a shanty boy I will go, I will leave him broken hearted his grounds to plow and sow." 52 ROIilNE OF EDINBURG TOWN. Come, all young men and maidens, come listen to my rhyme, It is all about a nice young girl that was scarcely in her prime, beat the blushing' roses, admired all around. Was lovely little Caroline of Edinburg town. Young Henry was a Highland man. a-conrting her he came, And when her parents came to know they did not like the same; Young Henry was offended and this to her did say, "Rise up, my lovely Caroline, and with me run away." Persuaded by young Henry, she put on her finest gown, And soon was traveling on the road from Edinburg town; ays to him, "Oh, Henry, dear, pray never on me frown, Or you'll break the heart of Caroline of Edinburg town." They had not been in London scarcely half a year When hard-hearted Henry he proved to be severe; Henry. "I'll go to sea, your parents did on me frown, So without delay go beg your way to 'Edinburg town. The fleet is fitting out and to Spithead is dropping down, And I will join in that fleet to fight for King and Crown; "The gallant tar might feel the sear or in the waters drown, But/' says she, ' ; I never will return to Edinburg town." Filled with grief without relief, this maiden she did go, Right into the wood to eat such food as on the bushes grew: Some strangers they did pity her and more did on her frown, And some did say what made you stray from Edinburg town? It was on a lofty jutting cliff this maid sat down to cry, A-watching of King Henry's ships as they were sailing by: She says, "Farewell, oh, Henry dear," and plunged her body down. And that's what became of Caroline of Edinburg town. A note was in her bonnet that was found along the shore, And in the note a lock of hair and those words, "I am no more ; I am fast asleep down in the deep, the fishes are watching 'round, What once was lovely Caroline of Edinburg town." EXILE OF ERIN. There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin. The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill, 53 For his country he sighed wneh at twilight repairing. To wander alone by the wind beaten hill; But the day star attracted his eyes' sad devotion, For it rose on his own native Isle of the ocean, Whcere once in the flow of his youthful emotion., He sang- the bold anthem of Erin Go Bragh. "Oh, sad is my fate, ,J said the heart broken stranger, "The wild deer and roe to the mountains can flee, But I have no refuge from famine or danger, A home and a country remains not for me; Oh, never again in the green shady bower, Where my forefathers lived shall I spend the sweet hours, Or cover my harp with the wild woven flowers. And strike the sweet numbers of Erin Go Bragh. Oh, Erin, my country, though sad and forsaken, In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore. But alas! in a far foreign land I aAvaken, And sigh for the friends that can meet me no more ; And thou, cruel fate, will thou never replace me, In a mansion of peace where no perils can chase me? Oh, never again shall my brothers embrace me, They died to defend me or live to deplore. Where is my cabin once fast by the wildwood. Sisters and sire did weep for its fall, Where is the mother that looked over my childhood, And where is my bosom friend, dearer than all? Ah, my sad soul, long abandoned by pleasure, Why did it dote on a fast .fading treasure? Tears like the rain may 'fall without measure, But rapture and beauty they cannot recall. But yet all its fond recollections suppressing, One dying wish my fond bosom shall draw. Erin, an exile bequeaths thee his blessing, Land -of my forefathers, Erin Go Bragh ; Buried and cold when my heart stills its motion, Green be thy fields fairest Tsle of the ocean, Aul the harp striking bard slugs aloud with devotion, "Erin I\Lavourncen, sweet "Erin Go Bragh.'' DEAR LAND. When comes the day all hearts to weigh if tiny be staunch or vile, 54 I we forgel the sacred debt v ur mother isle. 1 ative heath is brown beneath, my native waters ; But crimson red o'er both shall spread ere I am false to yon. Dear land, "ere I am false to you. i ! behold your mountains bold, your noble lakes and lingled tide and pride within my bosom turns; I think of all your long dark thrall, your martyrs brave and true, And dash apart the tears that start, we must not weep for yon. Dear land, we must not weep for you. 3*andsire die said lie, ; Ye just returned from the deep salt 3 all for the sake of thee. Oil, I might ha\e married a Queen's daughfer, For she would have married me. But I forsook her vrown of gold. And it was all for the sake of ti If you could have married a Queen's daughter, I'm sure you are much to bla For T am married to a house carpenter, And I think he's a nice young man. If you will leave your house carpenter, And go along with me, I will bring you where the grass grows green. On the banks of the sweet Dundee. Were I to leave my house carpenter. And go along with thee, What have you got to maintain me tin Or to keep me from slavery I have five ships on the ocean wide, All sailing for dry land. With a hundred and ten of their jolly seamen, To be at your command. She picked up her darling babe, And kisses gave it three, Saying. k ' Stay at home, my sweet little babe, Keep your papa company." They had not sailed two weeks, I believe, I am sure it was not three, Until this pretty fair maid began to weep, And she wept most bitterly. "Oh, do you weep for my gold?" said he, Or do you weep for my store, Or do you weep for your house carpenter, That you left on yonder shore . "I do not weep for your gold,"' said she, "Or neither for your store. But I do weep for my sweet little babe, That I never will see more." They had not sailed three weeks, I believe, I am sure it was not four, Until her true love's ship it struck a rock. And it sank to rise no more. "Curse one, curse all," this fair maid cried, "Oli, curse a sailor's life, For they robbed me of my sweet little babe, And deprived me of my life." 56 YOUNG CHARLOTTE. the mountain side in a wild and lonely welling there for three miles round except her father" wouW gather ung and fair. Pier father loved to see her dressed as fine as a city belle. the only child he had and he loved his daughter well : It is down, v .11 her longing Out at the frosty window for to see the sleighs go by? village inn fifteen miles off there is ft merry ball tonight, The air is cold and piercing, but her heart beats warm and er longing eyes till a well known sound she hears. When dashing up to the cottage door young Charlie's sleigh appears. ' ! Oh, daughter dear," the mother cries, "this blanket around you fold, It is a dreadful night, you know and vou'll catch your death of cold." "Oh, nay. oh. nay!" fair Charlotte said, and she laughed like ypsy queen, ' : To ride in blankets muffled up I never shall be seen. "My silken cloak is warm enough, you know it is lined through- out, Besides I have a silken shawl to tie my neck about." Her bonnet and her gloves were on, she jumped into the sleigh, .And away they rode by the mountainside and over the hills away. life in i i I of the merry bells as o'er the hills they go, What a creaking doth the runners make as they bite the frozen snow. With muffled face all silently, five cold long miles they passed, When Charlie in a few frozen words the' silence broke at last. ''Such a night as this I never knew, the reins I scarce can hold," When Charlotte said in a feeble voice, 4 "T am exceeding cold." lie cracked his whip and hurried his steeds more swiftly than fore, 57 Until at length five other miles they quickly did pass o'er. At length said Charles. l *How fast the ice is gathering on my brow. Young Charlotte said in a feeble voice, "I am growing warmer now. Still on they glide through the frosty air and in the cold star- light, Until at length the village inn and the ball-room were in sight. They reached the place and Charles jumped out and held his hands for her, ""Why sit you there like a monument, have you >lo power to stir 1 fie asked her once, he asked her twice, she answered not a word, He asked her for her hand again, and yet she never stirred. He took her hands within his own — oh, Cod, they were cold as stone, He tore the mantle from her brow, the cold stars on her shone; Then quickly to the lighted hall her lifeless form he bore, Young Charlotte was a fro/en corpse and never spoke no more. He sat himself down by her side, and the bitter tears did flow, He said, "My dear intended bride, you no more will sorrow know. He threw his arms around her neck and kissed her marble brow. And his thoughts went back to the place where she said, "I am growing warmer now.'' He put the corpse into the sleigh and quickly hurried home. And when he reached the cottage door, oh, how her parents mourned ! They mourned for the loss -of their daughter dear, and young Charlie mourned for his bride. He mourned until his heart did break and they slumber side ide. THE CLIPPER SHIP "DRIEADN AUGHT." 'We have a flash packet, she's a packet of fame. She belongs to New York and the kk Dreadnaught'' is her name; She is bound for the ocean where the stormy winds blow. Bound away on the "Dreadnaught" to the Westward we'll go. Now we are laying at the Liverpool dock, 58 Where the boys and s on the pier-heads do flock. And they gave its thr< s while their tears down did flow, Bound away on the ''Dreadnought' 5 to the Westward we'll go. The " Dreadnaught " is lying in the river Mersy, Waiting for the tug "Constitution" to tow us to sea, She tows around the Black Rock where the Mersy does flow, Bound away on the "Dreadnanght '' to the Westward we'll go. And now we are howling on the wild Irish sea. Where the sailors and passengers the sailors are perched on the yard arms, you know. Bound away on the "Dreadnaught" to the Westward we'll go. Now we are sailing on the ocean so wide, Where the great open billows dash against her black side, the sailors off watch are all sleeping below, Bound away on the "Dreadnaught" to the Westward we'll go. I now we are sailing off the banks of New Foundland, Where the waters are deep and the bottom is sand, Whe ish of the ocean they swim to and fro, Bound away on the "Dreadnaught" to the Westward we'll go. now we are howling off Long Island's green shore, Where the pilot he bards us as he's oft done before, Fill away your main top sails, port your main tack also, s a Liverpool packet. Loi let her go. And now we are riding in New York Harbor once more, I will go and see Na he girl I adore, To the parson I'll take her, my bride for to be, Farewell to the "Dreadnaught" and the deep stormy sea. TILE DAY THAT I PLAYED BASEBALL. ne name it is 'Houlihan, I'm a man that influential, I mind my business, stay at home me wants are few and small; But the other day a gang did come, they were filled with whis- key, gin and rum, And they took me out in the broiling sun to play a game of ball. They made me i^wry all tie I thought they'd set me azy, They put me out in the center field, sure T paralyzed them all; When I put up me hands to stop a fly, holy murther, it struck me in the eye, And they laid me .out by the fence to die on the day that I played baseball. 59 There was O'Shaughnessy of the second nine, he was throwing them underhanded, He put a twirl upon them and I couldn't strike them at all; The umpire he called strikes on me; "What's that?" says I: "You're out," says he, Bad luck to you O'Shaughnessy, and the way that you twirled the ball.' Then I went to bat and I knocked the ball I thought to San Francisco, Around the bases three times three, by Heavens, I run them all, When the gang set up a terrible howl, saying, "O 'Houlihan, you struck a foul, And they rubbed me clown with a Turkish towel on the day that I played baseball. The catcher swore by the Jack of Trumps that he saw me steal- ing bases, And fired me into a keg of beer, I loud for help did call ; I got roaring, staving, stone-blind drunk, I fell in the gutter, I lost my spunk, I had a head on me like an elephant's trunk on the day that I played baseball. The reporters begged to know my name and presented me with a medal, They asked me for my photograph to hang upon the wall; Saying, "0 'Houlihan you won the game," though me head was sore and shoulder lame, And they sent me home on a cattle train on the day that T played baseball. THE LAND WHERE THE SHAMROCKS GROW. There is an Island that's famed in her story, Sweet poets have sung in her prais Her verses have no brighter glory, But her sons have seen happier days: Let an Irishman roam the world over, No matter where'er he may be, He never will forget dear old Ireland, The Emerald Gem of the Sea. Chorus — For some love the land of the thistle, Or England with her wild red rose, But our hearts are away in old Ireland, The land where the Shamrock grows. 60 Her sons they are one and true hearted, Her daughters are virtuous and true, Though passing through time of great trouble, Give the children of Ireland their due; And her boys in the ranks of a soldier, Have many hard victories .gained, They never turned tail on the foeman, They'd sooner be found 'mong the slain. There lias been sad trouble of late in old Ireland, But don't give poor Pat all the blame, His deeds never tarnished his honor. It keeps from his cheeks the red blushes of shame But the deeds of the dark depredators, And quarrels with landlords about rent, If it were not for those paid agitatoi You'd soon find old Ireland content. May Ireland soon cease her repining. And her sons be content with their lot, Each dark cloud has a silvery lining, So may peace reign in mansion and cot; Let Ireland's dark day soon be over, And peace in our country reign, And make us more friendly to England, And be true sisters again. LOST ON THE LADY ELGIN. Up from the poor man's cottage, forth from the mansion door, Sweeping across the water and echoing along the shore, Caught by the morning breezes, borne on the evening gale, Came at the dawn of morning a sad and solemn wail. Refrain — Lost on the Lady Elgin, sleeping to wake no^more, Numbering in death five hundred that failed to reach the shore. Sad was the wail of children, weeping for parents gone, Children that slept at evening, orphans woke at morn ; Sisters for brothers weeping, husbands for missing wives, These were the ties that were severed by those five hundred lives. Staunch was the noble steamer, precious the- freight- she bore, Gaily they loosed their cables a few short hours before, Proudly she swept our harbor, joyfully rang the bell, Little they thought ere morning it would peal so sad a knell. 61 ROSE 'GRADY. Just down around the corner of a street where I reside, There lives the sweetest little girl that I have ever spied; Her name is Rose O 'Grady and I don't mind telling you, That she's the sweetest little Rbse that the garden ever grew. Chorus — ■ Sweet Rosie O 'Grady, my dear little Rose, She's my steady lady, most every one knows, And when we are married, how happy we'll be, For I love Rosie 'Grady and Rosie O 'Grady loves me. I never shall forget the day she promised to be mine, As we sat telling love tales in the good old summer time; It was on her finger that 1 slipped a small engagement ring, While overhead the little birds this song they seemed to sing. SINCE JAMES WENT OX THE STAGE. My name is Patrick Hogan, in this city I reside, I raised a son to manhood and he was my joy and pride, But now play actors and such trash does all his time engage, Me carpet is tore and me house is in a roar, Since James went on the stage. Chorus- - He wears long shoes and striped socks, And he says they're all the rage; Me carpet is tore and me house is in a roar Since James went on the stage. He has me hat and coat all spiled and everything is broke, He druv his fut thru the flure when he was tryin' to dance the lively moke. He says he'll make a terrible hit and he tells me he's immense And he took the ould woman's petticoat to play the Nagur Wench ; He sings, "Ta-ta and ira-la-la-le, " just like a bird in a cage, And he's set me nearlv crazy since he went upon the stage. THE SONG THAT REACHED MY HEART. I sat 'midst a mighty throng within a palace grand, In a city far beyond the sea, in a distant foreign land, 62 d to llif grandest si rain my ear had over heard, Enraptured, charmed, amazed I was ; my inmost soul was stirred. I looked on the singer fair, my heart was at her feet — She sang of love, the old, old theme, in accents low and sweet; And then she sang a song that made the teardrops start, She sang a song, a song of home, a song that reached my Heart. That night I never shall forget, that night with its pleasure and pain, I think of the singer, I think of the song, and wish I could live it again ; In fancy again I recall the scene witli its splendor bright, The mighty throng, the palace grand — oh, the mem'ry of that night ! fancy it may have been, but never had I heard A song that thrilled me o'er like this, like this so strangely stirred ; The menrries of that night of bliss will never from me part, She sang a song of "Home, Sweet Home,'' the song that reached my heart. # Home, Home, Sweet, Sweet Home, She sang a song of Home, •Sweet Home, The song that readied mv heart. BERNARD RILEY. My name is Owen Riley, I have a son that sets me crazy; He comes home every night singing blackguard songs, That he learnt at the free and azy. CKorus — He's gone, he's gone, the Lord knows where, Yes, he's gone to the divil entirely: He tells me that he's looking for the lost Charlie Ross, God help you, Bernard Riley. : me home the other night about two o'clock in the mornin^ He wanted strawberries and ice cream for his supper, When they brought him cabbage and corned mate, He flung it out in the gutter. .-' He came home the other night with a pair of boxing gloves, Struck his sister across the legs with a poker ; He had a ould deck of cards and he wanted me to play Sancho, pedro, seven-up, with the joker. 63 He went out the other day and he pawned me Sunday pants, For to go and lay a wager, And he took me down in the old Third ward, To fight again a hi" 1 buck Nagsmr, THE HAT ME FATHER WORE. I am Paddy Miles, an Irish boy, from far across the sea, For singing or for dancing, oh, I think I can please ye, I can sing and dance with any man as I did in days of yore, And on Patrick's day I long to wear the hat me Father wore. Chorus— It's ould but it's beautiful, the best you ever seen, It was worn for more than ninety years in that little isle so green ; From me Father's great ancestors it descended with galore, It's a relic of ould dtecency, it's the hat me Father w T ore. I bid you all good evening, good luck to you, I say, And when I'm on the ocean I hope for me you '11 pray; I am going to me happy home in a place called Ballymore, To be welcomed back to Paddy's land with the hat we Father wore. And when I do return again, the boys and girls to see, I hope that with ould Erin's style you'll kindly welcome me, And sing me songs of Ireland to cheer me more and more. And to make me Irish heart feel glad with the hat me Father w r ore. TIDY IRISH LAD. I'm a tidy bit of an Irish lad, as you can plainly see, And I like a drop of the creature when I go out upon a spree ; 1 like a drop of the creature in a good old Irish style, And a better drop cannot be had than is sold in the Emerald Isle. Chorus — Far away from our native country, me boys, we sometimes roam, We won't forget we are Irishmen, although we're far from home. Oh, they say no Irish need apply, it is a thing I don't under- stand, 64 what would the English army do if it were not for Paddy's land : :■ they went to battle they never were known to win, Except when the ranks they were filled up with the best of Irish m- If was at the battle of Waterloo, Sebastapool the same, The sons of Paddy's land they showed that they were game; They gave three hearty cheers, me boys, in a good old Irish style, And Ave walloped the Russians at Inkerman, did the boys of the Emerald Isle. NO IRISH WANTED HERE. I am an Irish laborer, both hearty, stout and strong, Idleness I never loved, to our race it don't belong; I have still the strength and will to toil, for the wants of life are dear. But I'm told wherever I ask for work, '-No Irish wanted here." You may think it a misfortune to be christened Pat or Dan, But to me it is a blessing- to be called an Irishman; I may live to see the day, it will come, oh, never fear, When ignorance gives way to sense and you'll welcome Irish here. When your country was in danger a few short years ago, You were not so particular then who would go and fight the foe; When men were wanted in the ranks to preserve her rights so dear. Among the bravest of the brave was our Irish volunteers. Oh, let your hearts be generous, help Paddy from the wall, For there's but one God above us who knows and loves us all; I may live to see the clay, it will come, oh, never fear, When ignorance gives way to sense anct you'll welcome Irish here. THE BELLS OF SHANDON. With deep affection and recollection, I often think of those Shandon Bells, Whose sounds so wild would in days of childhood Fling over my fancy their magic spells; 65 On this I ponder where'er I wander. And thus grow fonder, Sweet Cork of thee, While thy Bells of Shandon sound far more grand on The pleasant waters of the River Lee. I've heard bells chiming full-many a clim< Tolling sublime in cathedral shrine, While at glib rate brass tongues would vibrate, But all their music spoke naught like thine; For memory dwelling on each proud swelling. Of the belfry knelling its bold notes free, Made the Bells of Shandon sound far more grand on The pleasant waters of the River Lee. I've heard bells toU-ing old Adrian Mole in, Their thunders rolling from the Vatican, With Cymbals glorious swinging uproarious, In the gorgeous turrets of Notre Dame; But thy sounds are sweeter than the Dome of Peter, Flings over the Tiber pealing solemnly, Oh, the Bell of Shandon sound far more grand on The pleasant waters of the Rdver Lee. There's a bell in Moscow while on Tower and Kiosko, In St. Sophia the Turkman gets, And loud in air calls men to prayer, From the tapering summit of tall Minarets; Such an empty phantom I freely grant them, But there's an anthem more dear to me, 'Tis the Bells of Shandon that sound so grand on The pleasant waters of the River Lee. THAT TUMBLE-DOWN SHACK IN ATHONE. I'm a long way from home and my thoughts ever roam To ould Erin far over the sea; For my heart it is there where the skies are so fair, And ould Ireland is calling for me. Chorus — Oh, I want to go back to that tumble-down shack, Where the wild roses bloom 'round the door, Just to pillow my head in that ould trundle bed, Just to see my ould mother once more. Theres' a bright gleaming light, guiding me home tonight, Down the long road of white cobble stone; 66 Down the road that loads hack to that tumble-down shack, To that tumble-down shack in Athlone. There are eyes that are sad as they watch for a lad In the old-fashioned town of Athlone; And I pray for the day when I'm sailing away To onld Ireland, and mother, my own. THE REGULAR ARMY. OH. Three years ago this very day we went to Governor's Isle, For to stand ferninst the cannon in true military style; Seventeen American dollars each month we'd surely get, For to carry a gun and bayonet with a regimental step; We had our choice of going to the army or to jail, Of up the Hudson river with a cop to take a sail: We mustered up our courage and with bravery did we go, Oh. we cursed the day we went away witli the Regular Army Oh. Chorus — There was Sergeant John MeCaffery and Captain Donahue, They would make us march and toe the mark in gallant Com- pany Q; Oh, the drums would roll upon my soul, this is the style we'd go, Forty miles a day on beans and hay in the Regular Army Oh. We went to Arfzona to fight the Indians there, We came near being bald-headed, but they never got our hair; We lay among the ditches in the dirty yellow mud, And we never saw an onion, a turnip or a spud; On the telegraphic wire we walked to Mexico, And we blessed the day we skipped away from the Regular Army Oh. We are as dry as army herrings and as hungry as a Turk, The boys along the street cry out, "Soldiers, would you work?" We would ship into the navy to plow the raging sea, But salt water sure we could not endure, it would never agree with me; We'll join the Politicians and then we'll be well fed, We'll sleep no more upon the ground, but in a feather bed; And if a war it should break out and they'd call on us to go, We'd hire Italian substitutes for the Regular Army Oh. 67 KITTY, THE WICKLOW GIRL. God bless you all, I just came out to have a little chat, I am Irish sure, but that's no s*in, I'm a rollicking merry Pat; The ladies' hearts I captivate, as for them my stick I twirl, But Grahmachree, the maid for me is Kitty, the Wicklow girl. Chorus — ■ For her step is light, her eyes are bright, her teeth are like the pearl, Arrah Grahmachree, the maid for me is Kitty, the Wicklow girl. Her fortune it is but small to him who gains her hand, But her heart is pure and that's worth all the diamonds in the land; Oh, had I all the riches of any great Lord or Earl, I am very sure I would still be poor without me Wicklow girl. They may talk about their Fandangoes that the ladies hop in France, But let them come to Wicklow, they'll see a rale old country dance ; Both rich and poor they nettle the flure while their Kipp eens they do twirl, Oh, my heart grows big when I dance a jig with Kitty, the Wicklow girl. THE TWENTY-POUND DO In Savannah, sweet Savannah, There's where the mocking bird Is singing night and day, In Savannah, sweet Savannah, Home of my boyhood days. Soon I'll be back in old Savannah, Soon I '11 be where sweet magnolias bloom, Then my arms will soon entwine my ,gray-haired sweetheart, Soon I'll banish her sorrow and gloom; I love her for she bears the name of Mother, And in„my dreams I see her falling tears, The song birds seem to know that she is grieving, And sing for her in her declining years. LONESOME HOURS OF WINTER. Oh, the lonesome hours of winter provide both frost and snow, Dark clouds around us gather, the stormy winds do blow; You are the girl I have chosen to be my only dear, But your scornful heart is frozen and fast locked up I fear. . I went one night to see my love, she proved most scornfully, I asked her if she'd marry me to which she paid no heed; The night being nearly passed and gone and near the break of day, I am waiting for iay answer, my love, what do you say? Since you must have an answer, I choose a single life, I_never thought it fitting to ever become your wife; You may take that for an answer, for myself I will provide, I have chosen another sweetheart and you I cast aside. Since you are for a-changing the old one for the new, Then. I will ( go a-roving, I'll rove the country through, Until I find some pretty fair maid so pleasing to my will, Oh, this world is wide and lonesome, if one don't, why another will. 108 I know you have great riches and more you'd like to gain, You won my young affections which now you do disdain; Your riches will not last you long, they'll melt away like snow, And when poverty will press you, dear, you'll think of me, I know. Some folks do seek for pleasure, but -I no pleasure find, little birds sing sweetly all around on every vine, The little birds sing sweetly, so pleasing and divine, And so would my joys be flowing tonight if Nancy was only mine. MOLLY BAWN. Oh, Molly Bawn is my love's name, the same I'll ne'er deny, She has two red and rosy cheeks, two dark and rolling eyes; She is the primrose of this country, she is Venus, I declare, And the brightest* star that is in the land is Molly Bawn so fair. For where my love goes she trips the rose and makes the valle}'S ring. And all the little small birds in my love's praises sing; The cuckoo and the turtle dove, the nightingale also, They seem to say, "Let us haste away to wait on Molly-O." I wish I was in Ireland sitting on the green grass, And in my hand a bottle .and on my knee a lass ; We'd drink good liquor merrily and pay before we'd ,go. I would roll you in my arms, Molly, let the winds blow high or low. LEAVING EHIN. ■ Farewell, Erin, I now must leave you for to cross the raging main , Where cruel strife may end my life and I'll ne'er see you again; It will break my heart from you to part, Arrah Cushla Asthore Alachree But I must go full of grief and woe to the shores of America. Chorus— So now, farewell, I can no longer dwell in Ireland, Acushla For I must go full of grief and woe to the shores of America. 109 On Irish soil my parents dwelt since the time of Brien Boru, They paid their rent and lived content, convenient to Kjllaloo But the landlord cruel sent us ashule, my poor old mother and me, He banished us from home far away to roam to the wilds of America. No more at the churchyard, Asthore Machree, on my father's grave can I kneel, The rich man knows but little of the woes that the poor man has to. feel; When I look around on the little spot of ground where the cabin used to be, I may curse the laws that have gave me cause to depart for America. Where are the neighbors kind and true that were once our country's pride? No more they are seen at the fair on the green or dance on the green hillside; , It is the stranger's cow that is grazing now where the poor man used to be, With notices they were served and turned out to starve or ban- ished to America. Oh, Erin Machree, must your children be exiled all over the earth ? Must they think no more of you, dear land, as the spot that gave them birth? Must the Irish yield to the beast of the field, Arrah no, Cushla Asthore Machree, They're coming back in ships with vengeance on their lips from the shores of America. THE BOY OF LOVE. The boy of love without no fear like me some time ago, Like a hero bold through frost and cold to see my love I'd go, But the moon shone bright to give me light over the meadows so gay, Until I arrived at my true love's gate where all my fancy lay. When I arrive at my true love's gate, my step being soft and low, She will arise and let me in, so softly I will go, Saying, "Will you come to my father's house?" "No, dear, but come to your own, 110 Come with mo. love, to the Parson's and there we'll be made one." "Oh, no. kind sir," said she, "Prudence would not agree." "Well, then, sit down along by my side, for I must talk with thee. For seven Ions: vears I have courted you against your parents' will, I was alw 'Ived you would be my bride, but now, pretty girl, farewell. "My ship lies in the harbor all ready to set sail, And if the wind is from the East we'll have a favoring gale; Let the wind blow East or from the West, only to Columbia's shore, And when I reach Columbia's shore it is often I will say, 'May the Lord above protect my love where all my fancy lay.' " I COULDN'T STAY AWAY. Away down in old Virginia where I was bred and born, In that rosy, sunny country where we used to hoe the corn, In childhood's happy moments my heart was light and gay, Now I have come to see my birthplace, for I couldn't stay away. Chorus — ■ For I couldn't and I wouldn't, no, I couldn't stay away from there, I couldn't and I wouldn't, no, I couldn't stay away. I once did love a fair one 'way down in Dixie's land, And one day popped the question to offer heart and hand; She says, "My heart has been won and from me you must stay But she was only fooling, and I couldn't stay away. I have been both East and Westward and Southard far away But from the old plantation I could no longer stay, And all the happy faces that greets me here tonight Does make me doubly happy and fills me with delight. DOWN IN YONDER VALLEY. Down in yonder valley there lives my heart's delight, It's down' in yonder valley I'll meet my love tonight, For meeting is a pleasure between my love and I, 111 It's down in yonder valley I'll meet. her bye and bye. I met my love as she was going to church and straightway she passed me by, I knew her mind was changing by the rolling of her eye; I knew her mind was changing to a lad of high degree, And may he be hange,d forever that parted my love and me. I took a bottle from my pocket and I placed it in her hand, Saying, "Mollie, drink of this, love, for our courtship is at an end," Saying, "Drink from off the top, love, let the bottom remain for me, Five hundred pounds are wagered that married we'll never be." '"So farewell, Tipperary, and farewell to you, Trimore, And farewell, lovely Mollie, your face I'll see no more; America lies far away, it's a land I'm going to see, And may he be hanged forever that parted Mollie and me." WHERE THE RIVER SHANNON FLOWS. There's a< pretty spot in Ireland, I always claim for my land, Where the fairies and the blarney Will never, never die. It's the land of the shilalah, My heart goes back there daily, To the girl I left behind me When we kissed and said good-bye. Chorus — ■ Where dear old Shannon's flowing, Where the three-leafed shamrocks grow, Where my heart is I am going To my little Irish rose. And the moment that I meet her, With a hug and kiss I'll igreet her, For there's not a colleen sweeter, Where the river Shannon flows. Sure, no letter I'll be mailing, For soon will I be sailing, And I'll bless the ship that takes me To my dear old Erin's shore; There I'll settle down forever, 112 I'll leave the old sod ne\ And I'll whisper to my sweetheart, and take my name Asthore." I'LL RETURN, MOTHER DARLING, TO YOU. A mother was saying "goocUbye" to her hoy, AY ho was ready to start for the war, she said, ''You're my pride and joy, •e we parting for evermore?" He whispered, "'The war will be over some day, Though I know that your heart will jye arn ; Have cheer, mother dear, soon the spring will be here, That's the time when I will return." Chorus — When the roses of springtime are blooming, I'll return, mother darling, some day; At the end of the winter of sadness, Then I'll kiss all your tears away: Just forget that your boy is a soldier, To my country and home IT1 be true; When the birds sweetly sing, I'll return in the spring, I'll return, mother darling, to you. A mother was praying, alone, for her boy, As she prayed since that day long ago; She cried as she thought of the battlefield, "Something's happened to him, I know." The door of the cottage was opened at last, Soon a voice cheered her weary heart; Her boy cried with joy. "Days Of sorrow are past, Mother dear, we will never part." SINCE TERRENCE JOINED THE GANG. My name is Michael Slattery, and from Ireland I came, And I've a son that a big blagguard,and Terrence that's his name ; He wears a great big watch and chain and he calls it a Super and a slang, My heart is broke, God knows, it is since Terrence joined the gang. 113 He comes rolling: home in the morning, boys, Gives the "dure" the divil's own bang, Me heart is broke, God knows it is, Since Terrence joined the gang. When he came home last Sunday evening I talked to him so very nice, And he said, "Ould man, you are getting too fresh, and well have to lay you out upon the ice," He told the ould woman to go chase herself and to lave off giving him her slang, Her heart is broke, God knows it is, since Terrence joined the gang. He'll stand upon the corners from morning until night, And if the police they say, ''Move on," he'll spit at them with spite ; He went to the market only yesterday and there he stole a big ham, And he got six months in the penitentiary, along with the rest of the gaiiir. TOSS THE TURK. One evening lately I dressed up nately, With Sunday clothes, plug hat and all. And I started proudly while whistling loudly, To Neal Brogan's raffle at Hibernia Hall; While on the corner a gang of loafers, I know they're loafers for they never work, Says, "Boys, let us give the old Tad a racket, We'll have a picnic and we'll toss the Turk." Chorus — ■ Now, I'm not a fighter, nor yet a biter, But when duty calls me T never shirk; Understand me plainly, though I look ungainly, They had no picnic when they tossed the Turk. The big ring leader, a free lunch raider, Says to me, "O'Brien, go paint your tile, Put crepe around it, take an axe and pound it," And he thought it funny when the gang did smile 'Twas then my dander rose like a gander, For I heard one fellow say he'd flash a -dirk, So I tapped him lightly and surprised him quietly, 114 id they had no picnic when they tossed the Turk. They gathered Ground me and tried to pound me, But I put me back again' a big brick wall, I, "Now mind me, you can't get behind me, Come up in front and I'll bate you all." Then the gang did face me and tried to lace me, But I showed them tricks I learned in Donegal; Right and left I pounded, they were dumbfounded, And at last for mercy thev did loudly bawl. ' MY CHARMING LASS FROM THE COUNTY MAYO. The daughters of Erin are famed the world ovei For wit and for beauty and charms of their own, But there is one 'mong the land of the shamrock and clover, Fair as the fair and is second to none. She can not boast of wealth, of rank or of station, That true hearted Colleen that loves me, I know, But I could not love her more were she queen of a nation, Instead of a lass from the County Mayo. Chorus — ■ As pure as the dew drops that fall on the heather, Her cheeks like the primrose with sunlight aglow ; Our hearts are linked together with love's silken tether, She is my charming lass from the County Mayo. The mold of her ankle a Duchess might covet, Her waist fills with envy the great ladies all. And her sweet, tempting mouth and the blue eyes above it, The heart of a king on his throne might enthrall; Not a lad in the county but would be a bit bolder, For they worship the ground that she walks on, I know, But she wears the gold token of love's ties that binds her, She is my Irish lass from the County Mayo. THE IRISH JAUNTING CAR. Oh, my name is Larry Doolin, I'm a native of the sile, If you want a day's diversion I can drive you out in style; Me car is painted red and green and on the door a star, And the pride of Dublin City is me Irish jaunting car. 115 Chorus — So if you want to hire me, step in to Mickey Mars, And inquire for Larry Doolin and his Irish jaunting ear. When the Queen she came to Ireland her health for to revive, She axed her Lord Leiutenant to take her out to drive; She said unto his Lordship before they'd traveled far, How delightful is the joulting of an Irish jaunting car." I'm hired. by drinking men, by teetotalers and by me friends, A carman has so much to do that duty never ends, From morn to night he has to drive around both near #nd far. And at night he counts his bunces on his Irish jaunting car. NEVER GO BACK ON THE POOR. In this world of sorrow, of toil and regret, There are scenes I would gladly pass o'er, But stern duty compels that each fact must be told, So through life we may check them the more; Is it right that a man who has well earned his pay, On the pipes by the sweat of his brow, Should wait like a beggar on green day by day", Or else home in hunger to go? Don't show any favor to friend or to foe, The beggar or prince at your door; If you always do right you will get your reward, But never go back on the poor. From the wild waste of waters there came a death cry, As dashed on an iron bound shore, A noble ship struck in the darkness of night, And sank midst the tempest's loud roar; The captain asleep and the men of their post, "With the coal and provision run short, While the doomed ones they hoped for that bright Western land, Which in sweet joyous dreams they had sought. Can it be such neglect shall by us be forgot, Or that money will triumph once more? A good, willing hand, a stout branch and a rope, For those who go back on the poor! When the divers went down 'neath the wreck for to search For the bodies that lay far below, ''It's nothing but a steerage," was oft the remark, As a ghastly corpse came up to view; As if only a steerage could shut out a soul, Because poverty claimed him her own, 116 As if dollars and dh rce of all worth, And the road to all good that is known. But the white star must change her color aloft, To blood red afloat and ashore. Till the steamer Atlantic is forgoitten by time, With her cargo of unburied poor. ( BANKS (>F THE WABASH. Around my Indiana homestead waves the cornfields. In the distance looms the woodlands clear and cool.. Often times my thoughts revert to - E childhood, Where I first received my fesson in Nature's school. But one thing there is missing in the picture Without her fare it seems so incomplete, I long to see my mother in the doorway. As there years ago her hoy to greet. Chwus — Oh, the moon shines fair tonight along the Wabash, From the feilds there comes the breath of new mown hay, Through the sycamores the candle lights are gleaming, On the banks of the Wabash far away. Many years ha\ I since I strolled by the river, Arm and arm with sweetheart Mary by my side, It was there I tried to tell her that I loved her, It was there I asked of her to be my bride. Many years 1 F strolled through the church yard She is sleeping there, my aiigel Mary dear, I loved her hut she thought I did not mean it. Yet I'd give the world' if she were only here. I LEFT IRELAND AND MOTHER BECxVLSE WE WERE POOR. There is a dear spot in Ireland that I long for to see, ■iy own native birthplace, 'tis Heaven to me, Where my poor widowed mother lives there all alone, With my brothers and sisters, it was our own happy home. We had not much money, but my poor mother dear Placed a kiss on my brow, bade my heart be good cheer, Though the shadow of poverty darkened our door, I left Ireland and mother because we were poor. Chorus — Oh, my thoughts oft' go back to that dear little spot, ~ 117 To my brothers and sisters, and the little thatched cot, To my poor widowed mother, I'll ne'er see her. more, Twas a shame, but I left her because we were poor. Shall I ever forget on that bright, rosy morn. When leaving old Ireland my poor heart did mourn, And my poor widowed mother bade me be of good cheer, Saying, "Good-bye, Dannie darling,*-' "Good-bye, mother dear." And my brothers and sisters took me by the hand, Faith, my heart nearly broke when I left Ireland; Though the shadow of poverty darkened our door, T left Ireland and mother because we were poor. Since leavhr old Ireland my poor mother died, ".God bless and protect him.'' were the* last words she said, And the ring my father gave her she sent it to me, A jewel more precious than gold unto me. My brothers and sisters, I wish they were here, I will send for them soon and they will come, never fear; I have a neat little cot on Columbia's shore, Where Ave all can live happy although we are poor. THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. Come, all you sons of Britton, and Irish heroes, too, And all that fought for freedom's cause that day at. Waterloo, Be of good courage, stout and bold, and I will promise you That we'll plant victorious eagles on the planes of Waterloo. About eight o'clock the earth did shock and this frightful fray begun. It lasted the whole day long till the setting of the sun; No pen can write, no tongue can tell the horrors of that day, They fought like men at Waterloo until they were betrayed. It would fill your heart with pity if you seen those French- men's wives, Likewise their little children, with melancholy cries, Saying, "Mamma, dearest Mamma, oh, this day we sure will rue, When we come to see our Da Das slain at the battle of Water- loo." To see "Bony" like' a bantam perched upon his car, He appeared to be great Caesar or Mars, the god of war; From a high platform where he stood lie flapped his wings and crew, Till he dropped his wings through being betrayed at the battle of Waterloo. 118 iver hav 'er through water and through mud, I many a battle have I fought full ankle-deep in blood, But Provide]: me in all I e'er went through. Till it was my lot to be betrayed at the battle of Waterloo. irse attend you. Grouchy, you did the French betray, You led the sons of Ireland far different from their way; You were the cause of "Bony V fall, alas he is no more, Led him to St. Helena's shore. LITTLE NELL OF XARRA* ; TE BAY. I had a dear companion, but she's not with me now, The lillies of the valley are waving o'er her brow, And I am sad and lonely and weeping all the day* For bright eyed. I; 11 of Xarragansette Bay. rain- Toll, toll the bell at early dawn of day. For lovely little Xell so quickly passed away, Toll, toll the bell so saa and mournfully. For bright eyed, laughing little Nell of Xarragansette Bay. I loved tliis little beauty, my boat it was her pride. And with her clos • me what joy the foam to ride, "We laughed- and talked so merry to see the waves go by, Though louder blew the stormy winds and darker grew the sl>y. from us she wandered and got into a boat, The line was quickly loosened and with the tide did float; The treacherous bark flew lightly before the mighty wind. While home and friends and all so dear were many miles behind. t day her lifeless was found upon the beach, I stood and gazed upon it. bereft of sense and speech; thus we parted, but yet I weep today For bright eyed, laughing little Xell of Xarragansette Bay. MARCHIXG THROUGH GEORGIA. >od old bugle, boys, we'll sing another song, I it with a spirit that will start the world along, _ it as we used to sing it, fifty thousand strong, While we were marching through Georgia. 119 Chorus— Hurrah ! Hurrah ! We bring the jubilee, Hurrah ! Hurrah ! The flag that makes you free, So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea, While we were marching thro' Georgia. How the darkies shouted when they heard the joyful sound, How the turkeys gobbled which our commissary found, How the sweet potatoes even started from the ground, While we were marching thro' Geoi Yes, and there were Union men who wept with soulful tears, When they saw the honored flag they had not seen for years, Hardly could they be restrained from breaking forth in cheers, While we were marching tlrro' Georgia. "Sherman's dashing Yankee boys will neves reach the coast," So the saucy rebels said, and ? twas a handsome boast, Had they npt forgot, alas, to reckon with the host, While we were marching thro' Georgia. So we made a thoroughfare for freedom and her train, Sixty miles in latitude, three hundred to the main; Treason fled before us/for resistance was in vain, While we Were* marching thro' Georgia. HOME, SWEET HOME. 'Mid pleasures and palaces, though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home; A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there, Which, seek thro' the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere. Refrain — • Home, home, sweet, sweet home, There's no place like home. Oh, there's no place like home. I gaze on the moon as I tread the drear wild. And feel that my mother now thinks of her child, As she looks on that moon from our own cottage door, Thro' the woodbine whose fragrance shall cheer me no more. An exile from h; lendor dazzles in vain; Oh, give me my lowly thatch 'd cottage again, The birds singing gaily that come at my call. Give me them, and that peace of mind dearer than all. 120 ET REF A music hall was crowded in a village o'er the sea, And brilliant ]\ . everywhere; 3 and witty sayi] audience with ■_■ For the minstrels from the Sunny South were tl siig" about his old plantation horn Down on i When an aged darkey sitting there in silence and a] . and this is wh Refrain — again thai sweet ret': the old folks stay, It brings mi . slavery sold awa. Down on the £ River banks there is where I used to roam, Now I'm old and nd far away, far from the old folks at' home. The minstrel kin and eyes grew dim with tears, The aged darkey sat with head bowed low; And somethii slumbered there for years, It was a memory of his mother long ago. The play it closed 'mid great applause, and when the curtain fell The aged darkey tottered on his way. Thinking of the sweet-voieed singer and the song he sang so well, Thinking of the words that made him rise and say: OYER THE HILLS TO THE POOR-HOUSE. For what can it be they have driven Their father so helpless and old, Oh, God, may their crimes be forgiven, To perish out here in the cold; Oh, Heavens, I'm sad and I'm weary, See the tears how they course down my cheek, This world it is lonely and dreary, My heart for relief vainly seeks. Refrain— For I'm old and I'm helpless and feeble. And the davs of my youth have gone by, Now it's over the hills to the poor-house, I wander alone there to die. 121 I've sat on that old doorstep yonder, And held my dear babes on my knee; No father was happier or fonder Than I, of my little ones three; The boys both so rosy and rugged; And Lilly with prattle so sweet, God knows how their father has loved them, But they've driven him out in the street. ■ ■ « It is long years since my Mary was taken, My dear old affectionate wife, Since then I have been forlorn and forsaken; And the light has died out from my life ; The boys grew to manhood — I gave them A deed of the farm, aye, and more, I gave them the house I was born in, And now I'm turned out from its door. NELLIE WAS A LADY. Down on the Mississippi floating, Long time I travel on the way, All night the cotton-wood a-toting, Sing for my true love all the day. Chorus — ■ Nellie was a lady, last night she diet Toll the bell for lovely Nell, My dark Yirginny bride. Now I'm unhappy and I'm weeping, Can't tote the cotton-wood no m Last night while Nellie was a-sleeping, Death came a-knocking at the door. Down in the meadow 'mong the clover, Walk with my Nellie by 1113- side;- Now all those happy days are over, Farewell, my dark Virginny bride. LOCH- LOMOND. By yon bonnie banks, and by yon bonnie 'braes, Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond, 122 Wl my true On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond. Chorus — ■ Oh, ye '11 take the high road, and I'll take^he low road, And I'll be in Scotland af But me and my true love we'll never meet again On the bonnie bank* h Ldmon 'Tv\. that we parted in yon shady gl On the ide of Ben Ldmo Where in purple hue the highland hills we view, And the moon coming* out in the gloaming. The wee birdie sang, and the wild flowers spring. And in sunshine the waters are sleep But the broken heart it kens nae second spring again, Tho' the waeful mae cease frae their greeting. SHE MAY HAVE SEEN BETTER DAYS. While strolling along 'midst the city's vast throng, On a night that was bitterly cold, I noticed a crowd that were laughing aloud, At something they chanced to behold. I stopped for to see what the object might be. And there on a doorstep there lay A woman in tears from the crowd's angry jeers. And then I heard somebody say: rain — ■ may have seen better days, When she was in her prime, • may have seen better days Once upon a time. Though by the wayside she's fell, •e may yet mend her way Some poor old mother is waiting for her Who has seen better da; If we could but tell how this poor creature fell. Perhaps we'd not be so severe: , If the truth were but known of this outcast alone, Perhaps for her we'd all shed a tear. She was once someone's joy, cast aside like a toy. Forsaken, abandoned, alone, , 123 Each man standing' by had a tear in his eye, For some had daughters at home. JUST TELL THEM THAT YOU SAW ME. While strolling down the street one eve, alone on pleasure bent, It was after business worries X)f the day, I saw a girl who shrank from me in whom I recognized My schoolmate in a village far away. ''Is that you. Madge?'' I said to her; she quickly turned away, "Don't turn away, Madge, I am still your friend; Next week I'm going back to see the old folks and I thought, Perhaps some message you would like to send. Chorus — Just tell them that you saw me, she said, they'll know the rest, Just tell them I was looking well, you know: Just whisper if you get a chance to mother dear and say, I love her as I did long, long ago. Your cheeks are pale, your face is thin, come tell me, were you ill ■ When last we met your eyes shone clear and bright; Come home with me when I go,- Madge, the change will do you good, Your mother wonders where you are tonight. "I long to see them all again, but not just yet," she said; "It's pride alone that's keeping me away; Just tell them not to worry, for I'm all right, don't you know, Tell mother I am coming home some day." THE ROVING IRISHMAN. I am a roving Irishman that roves from town \o town, I lately took a notion to view some foreign ground, So with my knapsack on my shoulder and shijjala in my hand, I sailed away to America to view that happy land. When I landed in Philadelphia the girls all laughed with joy, Says one unto another, "There comes a roving boy." One treated to a bottle and another to a dram, And the toast went 'round so merrily, "Success to the Irish- man." 124 v iirst night at the house where I was going to stay, The landlady's daughter grew very fond of me; She kissed me and she hugged me and she took me by the hand, And she whispers to her mother, "How I love this Irishman." I- was early next morning when I was going away, landlady's daughter those words to me ""did sa,- ''How can you "be so cruel or prove so very unkind, As to go away a-roving and leave me here behind Oh, I am bound for Wisconsin, that's right among the Dutch, And as for conversation it won't be very much, But by signs and by signals I'll make them understand That the spirits of good nature lies in this Irishman. Now it's time to leave off roving and take myself a wife, . And for to live happy the remainder of my life ; Oh, I'll hug her and I'll kiss her, oh, I'll do. the best I e»n P^or to make her bless the day that she wed with this Irishman. I TOLD THEM THAT I SAW YOU. You all have heard the story of the girl that ran away, And how she met her schoolmate among the city's throng one day : Just tell the folks you saw me — that was all the maiden said, One day she got a letter from her schoolmate and it read: lief rain — I told them that I saw you, they want you to come home, Their hearts are breaking for you while far away you. roam; You know they're getting old, Madge, from them you soon must part. So come home, Mad.ge, before you break your poor old mother's heart. Then came thoughts of her childhood to this fair one, wild and gay. She seemed to see her mother in her home so far away- . She thought of her happy childhood and the life she might have led, And gazing on the letter those Words once more she read: OLD FOLKS AT HOME. AYay down upon the Swanee river, Far, far away, 125 Dere's whar my heart is turning ever, Dere's who' de old folks stay. All up and down de whole creation Sadly I roam, Still longing for the old plantation, And for de old folks at home. Refrain — All de world is sad and dreary, Everywhere I roam; Oh, darkies, how my heart grows weary, Far from de old folks at home. All roun' de little farm I wandered, When I was young; Den many happy days I squandered, Many de songs I sung. When I was playing with my brother, Happy was I. Oh, take me back to my kind old mother, There let me live and die. One little hut among de bushes, One that I love, Still sadly to my mem'ry rushes, No matter where I rove; When will I see de bees a-humming All roun' de comb? When will I hear de banjo tumming Down in my good old home ? OLD BLACK JOE. Gone are the days when my heart was young and gay, Gone are my friends from the cotton fields away; Gone from the earth to a better land, I know, I hear their gentle voices calling, "Old Black Joe." Chorus — ■ I'm coming, I'm coming, for my head is bending low; I hear those gentle voices calling, "Old Black Joe." Why do I weep when my heart should feel no pain? Why do I sigh that my friends come not again? Grieving for forms now departed long ago, I hear their gentle voices calling, "Old Black Joe." 126 Where are the hearts once so happy and so free? The children so dear that I held upon my knee? Gone to the shore where my soul has longed to go, I hear their gentle voices calling, ' ' Old Black Joe. ' ' THE SHREW WIFE. Kind folks, if you'll listen a story I'll tell, It is of a misfortune that has me befell, I married a jade and her name it is Nell, And she's all the time scolding and brawling. Twenty pounds of a pension I draw every year, Which caused her to drink both whiskey, and beer, Her voice like a cannon would sound in my ear, Before the daylight in the morning. To kindle the fire, that is me first job, And if I don't do it, it's a slap in the gob, A kick or a cuff or a rap on the nob, I 'm sure for to get from me darling. Before I go to the barn I must lave the tay kettle to bile, And when I come in I must nurse a young child, I wish I'd been kilt on the banks of the Nile Before I ever met me darling. Without a sign of a shoe or a sock to me feet, Me bed it is left without blanket or sheet, I'm a show to the world when I go on the street, While she to the neighbors is galivanting. It is now my wife's beauty I mean to disclose, She's dirty, she's ragged, with a dam crooked nose, She 's a disgrace to all women wherever she goes, With her tatters and rags a-hanging. She has hair on her lip like a wandering Jew, Damn the tooth in her head that is sound, only two, Not a stitch on her back, aither red, white or blue, That ever was wet with a washing. I have traveled through France, through .England and Spain All through the East Indies and back home again, At Waterloo battles I suffered great pain, But I never met with the likes of me darling. 127 DUBLIN BAY. There sailed away in a gallant bark Roy Neal and his fair young bride, They had ventured all in that bounding ark that sailed o'er the silvery tide; But their hearts were young and their spirits light and they dashed the tears away, And they watched the shore recede from sight of their own sweet Dublin Bay. Three days they sailed when a storm arose and lightning flashed the deep, And the thunder's crash broke the short repose of the weary r.ea boys asleep ; Roy Neal he clasped his weeping bride and kissed her tears away; "Oh, love, 'twas a fatal hour," she cried, "when we left Dublin Bay. ' ' On the crowded deck of that doomed ship some stood in mute despair, And some more, calm with a holy lip sought the God of the storm in prayer; "She has struck on a rock," the sailors cried in a breath of their wild dismay, And the ship went down and the fair young bride that sailed from Dublin Bay. BILLIE JOHNSON OF LUNDY'S LANE. An old and crippled veteran to the War Department came, He sought the chief who led him o'er many a field of fame, The chief who shouted "FORWARD" whene'er his banner rose, And bore the flag in triumph behind his flying foes. "Have you forgotten, General," the battered soldier cried, "The days of Eighteen Hundred and Twelve when I fought by your side? Have you forgotten Johnson that fought at Lundy's Lane? ' It's true I'm old and feeble, but I'd like to fight again." "Have I forgotten?" says the chief, "my brave old soldier, NO! And here's the hand I gave you then and let it tell you so; But you have done your share, my friend, you are crippled, old and gray, And we have need of stronger arms and fresher blood today." 128 ''I'm not so weak, but I can shoot, and I've a good old gun, To get the range of traitors' hearts and pierce them one by one; And if a bullet should find me out and lay me on my face, My soid will go to Washington, and not. to Arnold's place. "J am ready. General, so you let a post to me be given, Where Washington can look down on me as he looks down from Heaven,. And-say to Putnam at his side, or maybe General Wayne, "There stands old Billie Johnson, he fought at Lundy's Lane." THE GRAVE OF THE SECTION HAND. They laid him away on the brow of the hill, Outside of the right-of-way. And the old boss whispered, "Peace, be still," Till the call on the Final Day. They had placed him where he had wished to lie, When his time would come, he said, Where he'd list to the wire's mournful sigh, To the foreman's "Joint ahead!" For many a year he had paced that beat, He had pumped o'er every tie, And now from fa .1 He could feel the freights roll by; For from his rest, meath the willow's shade, His spirit would guard the track; He would know when the ensrine struck the grade, Hear the old call, "Center back!'' He would hear the tramp of the "extra gang," The dago's clattering tongue, The voice of the Irish boss he knew. And the water-boy ^s whistle and song. And lonely he'd be when the sun' last glare Had faded away in the night. And left him alone with the feeble flare Of the distant red switch-light. And the .old boss fastened a band of black To the unused handle-bar, And he said, "Now, men. the speed we'll slack As we pass with the old hand r car The place on the brow of the hill beyond, We will make up the minute we're la; While the birds are singing their morning song O'er the grave of our old-time mat" 129 THE MAGIC GLASS. I went one night with a high-priced thirst to loaf in a booze bazaar, And as I sampled the old red dope I leaned on the polished bar ; My pockets were filled with the good, long green, my raiments were soft and new, And I felt as fresh as a cabbage flower that's kissed with a nice wet dew; Behind the bar a mirror stood as big as your parlor floor, And I looked and looked in that glittering glass, then I won- dered and looked some more. My own reflection I did not see, but there where it should have been, There stood the form of a cringing bum, all crumpled and soaked with gin; His nose was red, his eyes were bleared, unshorn was his swollen face, And I thought it queer that so seedy a bum would come to so swell a place. I turned around for a better look at this effigy of despair. And I nearly fell in a little heap, for the effigy wasn't there; The bartender laughed, "It's the Magic Glass," he said with a careless yawn, "It shows a man how he is apt to look years hence when his roll is gone." THE TWO 'DONAHUES. We came from Tipperary a few short weeks ago, With spirits light and airy, two emigrants, you know; So now we ask your pardon, smile on us if you please, For we come from Tipperary so far beyant the seas. Digging turf was our occupation in the bogs of Allen then, But we're told that in this nation we'll at least be aldermen; We're sure of big positions in offices of note, We'll join the politicians, boys, and for us you'll have to vote. When we go back to Ireland it's then it will be said, We '11 rise up in our sireland, the green above the red ; So all the world may glory whenever they hear the news Of Ireland and the story of the two 'Donahues. 130 REMINISCENCES. The harp that once through Taras Hall played many a good old tone, Come back to Erin, Molly Bawn, and the Rising, of the Moon ; Kathleen Mavourneen andCruirkeenlawn-arrah, where 's that harp, today ? For the only tune th now is Ta-ra-bom-de-a. was an old man Plynn and what do you think of him? . the hat that lie wore it was all caved in, g would all shout as he 'here goes dirty old man Flyii And then the; I a derrick and hoist it, and hang it on the shelf, get a derrick and hoist it, and then go hang yourself! arly frightens me out of my life to hear those imps of sin, take a brick and go hit that flannel-mouthed Mick and cave his old dicer in.'' THE MORNING AFTER, Sometimes, old scout, in the morning, when the dawn looks cold and gray, And I lie he perfumed flowers thinking thoughts I dare not say, I think on the stunts of the night before and I smile a feeble smile, And I sav to mvself for the hundredth time. "Is it really worth while ?" Then I pick up the morning paper and see where some goodly man Who never soused at all in his life, or never said "Hell" or "Damn," Who never stayed out till the wee small hours or jollied the gay soubrette, preached on the evils of drinking, of cards and the arette. "Cut down in the midst of a useful life," the headline does glibly s: Or "caught by death's grim reaper, he has crossed the great Highway They bury him deep while a few friends weep, and the world passes on with a sigh, 131 And that saintly man is forgotten soon, just the same as von or I. Then I says to myself, "Well, Jack, old boy, when you are called to make the jump, When you reach the pla.ce where the good and the bad must bump the eternal bumps, You can smile to yourself and chuckle, though the path be exceedingly hot, When you were on earth you were -going some" — now is that an unholy thought? Then I arise aiid attach a cracked iceband to the crown of my battered hat, And I wander forth for a cold gin fizz — she is a great old world at that; Then I go on my way rejoicing, what's the use to sob or sigh, Take the route, old scout, and be merry, for tomorrow you may die. THE KLONDIKE MINER. A Klondike City mining man lay dying on the ice, There was lack of women's nursing, for he didn't have the price, But a comrade knelt beside him as the sun sank to repose, To hear what he might have to say and watch him while lie froze. The dying man lie raised liis head above the banks of snow, And he said, "I've never seen it thaw when 'twas forty-five below ; Take a message and a token to some distant friends thereat, For I was born at Gibbons, at Gibbons on the Platte, "Tell my brothers and companions if ever you get back East? That this blooming Klondike -country is no place for man or beast, For the mountains are too rugged and the weatlier is too cold, And the wheat fields of Nebraska yield a better grade of gold. Here an honest day of labor won't buy a pound of grease,, And the price of leather biscuits is sixty cents apir 1 Tell my father not to sorrow with a sorrow deep and dense. For I would not thus have perished if I had a lick of sense, But to keep the sorrel horses and the high-grade cattle fat Upon the farm at Gibbons, at Gibbous on th? Platte. 132 * ' I thought to make a fortune here, ' ? the dying man did say, And then he hove a sigh or two and froze up right away; And it took of golden shekels two hundred, yes, more than that, To ship him back to Gibbons, to Gibbons on the Platte. 133 CORRECTION A correction in typographical error made on Page 47. THE LASS OF DUNMORE As I went a- walking one morning, Bright Phoebus so clearly did shine, And the meadow larks warbled melodious, While the roses in the valley did twine; It was down by a grove where I wondered, A while to repose in the shade, On my destiny for to ponder, It was there I beheld a fair maid. 134 14 DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. II Al 1 U.Lr.l.A. INTER LIBRARY LOAN f)M¥ MONTH AFTER RECSP OCT 9 1969 FEB I 2 1992 t -n oi An™ o 'AQ General Library (jSSwutfBl^ Uoive^of California YC 14172 ,ii;£„ BERKELEY LIBRARIES 604152 IVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY ii