'What is it, O'Neale, man? How wildly you rave!' And the hand of Murt Shea, the best friend that he had, Was lovingly laid on the arm of the lad. 'Oh, Murt, give me hould of that splinter,' he said, And let me look down on the face of the dead; Then O'Neale groaned again: 'Sure, I've searched every part And the rest they come up, and the bushes they sift, Then O'Neale shouted: 'Come, every man of ye lift 'Wid no tussocks betune them?' 'Wid nothin' betune. 'Have yez e'er a rope handy, boys?' 'Divle a rope! And not nearer nor Sneem for the likes you could hope. To the spot that the faithful, wise hound wouldn't pass, Then says Pat, leanin' down wid a splinter of light : And twined them and jined them a thirty-foot length, Then roped it around the two biggest boys there, And he easily lifted the two through the air, Up and down, till he'd proved it well able to bear. There's life in her still-tho' she's kilt from the fall.' Then he turns to one side, and he whispers Murt Shea: In the place where's no poverty, sorrow, or pain.' And he promised- and all then shook hands wid O'Neale, And he cheered them and said: 'Have no dread that we'll fail, For I'd not be afear'd-why, to balance the Pope Himself from the clift by so hearty a rope. So a torch in his hand and a stick in his teeth, And his coat round his throat, the boys lowered him beneath. But it wasn't for long they'd the doubt in their mind, "Tis the eagles, for sartin-but not at the dead; For they'll not touch the corpse. Murther! but for the mist, 'Tis I could have told you that this was their nest. It's O'Neale that they're at-pull him back, or they'll tear The poor boy to pieces below in the air;' And they shouted together the eagles to scare. And they called to O'Neale from the edge of the height: Then they felt the rope slacken as he crossed to the bough, THE LIMERICK LASSES 'HAVE you e'er a new song, To help us along Wid this terrible boat Away over to Tork?' For all of your work "Twill tighten you, boys, To cargo that sand To the overside strand Wid the current so strong, Unless you've a song— A song to lighten and brighten you, boys. Be listenin' then, My brave Kerry men, And the new song, And the true song Of the Limerick lasses 'tis I will begin. O Limerick dear, It's far and it's near I've travelled the round of this circular sphere; Still an' all to my mind No colleens you'll find As lovely and modest, as merry and kind, Our Limerick lasses So lovely and modest, so merry and kind. Strong and slow, Chorusing after me as we go:- No colleens you'll find As lovely and modest, as merry and kind, Our Limerick lasses So lovely and modest, so merry and kind. O your English colleen Has the wonderful mien Of a goddess in marble, all grand and serene ; And, though slow to unbend, Win her once for your friend, And no alter or falter-she's yours to the end. But oh! row, Strong and slow, Chorusing after me as we go: Still an' all to my mind No colleens you'll find As lovely and modest, as merry and kind, As our Limerick lasses; Our Limerick lasses— So lovely and modest, so merry and kind. Of the French demoiselle Delighted I'll tell, For her sparkle and grace suit us Irishmen well; And taken complete, From her head to her feet, She's the perfectest picture of polish you'll meet. But oh! row, Strong and slow, Chorusing after me as we go: Still an' all to my mind No colleens you'll find As lovely and modest, as merry and kind, As our Limerick lasses; Our Limerick lasses So lovely and modest, so merry and kind. O Donna of Spain, It's the darlingest pain From your dark eyes I've suffered again and again, When you'd gracefully glide Like a swan at my side, Or sing till with rapture the woodbird replied. But oh row, Strong and slow, Chorusing after me as we go: Still an' all to my mind No colleens you'll find As lovely and modest, as merry and kind, As our Limerick lasses; Our Limerick lasses So lovely and modest, so merry and kind. Now, my Maryland girl, With your sunshiny curl, Your sweet spirit eyes, and complexion of pearl ; And the goodness and grace That illumine your face, You're the purtiest approach to my Limerick lass. For oh! row, Strong and slow, Chorusing after me as we go :— |