Green Bays | Page 3

'Troy Town')
Be aisy an' list to a chune
That's sung of bowld Tim the Dragoon--
Sure, 'twas he'd niver miss
To be stalin' a kiss,
Or a brace, by the light of the moon--
Aroon--
Wid a wink at the Man in the Moon!
Rest his sowl where the daisies grow thick;
For he's gone from the
land of the quick:
But he's still makin' love
To the leddies above,
An' be jabbers! he'll tache 'em the thrick--
Avick--
Niver doubt but he'll tache 'em the thrick!
'Tis by Tim the dear saints'll set sthore,
And 'ull thrate him to whisky
galore:

For they 've only to sip
But the tip of his lip
An' bedad! they'll be askin' for more--
Asthore--
By the powers, they'll be shoutin' 'Ancore!'
IRISH MELODIES.
II.
KENMARE RIVER.
'Tis pretty to be in Ballinderry,
'Tis pretty to be in Ballindoon,
But
'tis prettier far in County Kerry
Coortin' under the bran' new moon,
Aroon, Aroon!
'Twas there by the bosom of blue Killarney
They came by the hundther' a-coortin' me;
Sure I was the one to give
back their blarney,
An' merry was I to be fancy-free.
But niver a step in the lot was lighter,
An' divvle a boulder among the
bhoys,
Than Phelim O'Shea, me dynamither,
Me illigant arthist in
clock-work toys.
'Twas all for love he would bring his figgers
Of iminent statesmen, in toy machines,
An' hould me hand as he
pulled the thriggers
An' scattered the thraytors to smithereens.
An' to see the Queen in her Crystial Pallus
Fly up to the roof, an' the
windeys broke!
And all with divvle a trace of malus,--
But he was
the bhoy that enjoyed his joke!
Then O, but his cheek would flush, an' 'Bridget,'
He 'd say, 'Will yez
love me?' But I 'd be coy
And answer him, 'Arrah now, dear, don't

fidget!'
Though at heart I loved him, me arthist bhoy!
One night we stood by the Kenmare river,
An' 'Bridget, creina, now
whist,' said he,
'I'll be goin' to-night, an' may be for iver;
Open your arms at the last to me.'
'Twas there by the banks of the Kenmare river
He took in his hands me white, white face,
An' we kissed our first an'
our last for iver--
For Phelim O'Shea is disparsed in space.
'Twas pretty to be by blue Killarney,
'Twas pretty to hear the linnets's
call,
But whist! for I cannot attind their blarney,
Nor whistle in
answer at all, at all.
For the voice that he swore 'ud out-call the linnet's
Is cracked
intoirely, and out of chune,
Since the clock-work missed it by thirteen
minutes
An' scattered me Phelim around the moon,
Aroon, Aroon!
LADY JANE.
Sapphics.
Down the green hill-side fro' the castle window
Lady Jane spied Bill
Amaranth a-workin';
Day by day watched him go about his ample
Nursery garden.
Cabbages thriv'd there, wi' a mort o' green-stuff--
Kidney beans,
broad beans, onions, tomatoes,
Artichokes, seakale, vegetable
marrows,
Early potatoes.

Lady Jane cared not very much for all these:
What she cared much
for was a glimpse o' Willum
Strippin' his brown arms wi' a view to
horti-
-Cultural effort.
Little guessed Willum, never extra-vain, that
Up the green hill-side, i'
the gloomy castle,
Feminine eyes could so delight to view his
Noble proportions.
Only one day while, in an innocent mood,
Moppin' his brow ('cos
'twas a trifle sweaty)
With a blue kerchief--lo, he spies a white 'un
Coyly responding.
Oh, delightsome Love! Not a jot do you care
For the restrictions set
on human inter-
-course by cold-blooded social refiners;
Nor do I, neither.
Day by day, peepin' fro' behind the bean-sticks,
Willum observed that
scrap o' white a-wavin',
Till his hot sighs out-growin' all repression
Busted his weskit.
Lady Jane's guardian was a haughty Peer, who
Clung