GAILY SOUNDS THE CASTANET
GAILY sounds the castanet,
Beating time to bounding feet,
When, after day-light's golden set,
Maids and youth by moon-light meet
Oh, then, how sweet to move,
Through all that maze of mirth-
Lighted by those eyes we love,
Beyond all eyes on earth.
Then, the joyous banquet spread
On the cool and fragrant ground.
When night's bright eye-beams over head,
And still brighter sparkling round.
Oh, then how sweet to say
Into the lov'd one's ear
Thoughts reserv'd through many a day,
To be thus whisper'd here.
When the dance and feast are done,
Arm-in-arm as home we stray,
How sweet to see the dawning sun,
O'er her cheeks warm blushes play,
Then, then, the farewell kiss,
And word, whose parting tone
Lingers still in dreams of bliss,
That haunt young hearts alone.
I KNEW by the smoke, that so gracefully curl'd
Above the green elms, that a cottage was near;
And I said, if there's peace to be found in the world
A heart that is humble might hope for it there,
Every leaf was at rest, and I heard not a sound,
But the woodpecker tapping the hollow beech-tree.
And here in this lone little wood, I exclaimed,
With a maid who was lovely to soul and to eye; Who would blush when I praised her, and weep if I
How blest could I live, and how calm could I die! Every leaf was at rest, &c.
By the shade of yon sumach, whose red berry dips, In the gush of the fountain, how sweet to recline! And, to know that I sighed upon innocent lips, Which ne'er had been sighed on by any but mine. Every leaf was at rest, &c,
THE lilies were blowing,
When Edward all glowing,
With purest delight to his Flora did say
Though short-lived each flower,
I plant round this bower,
Yet the rose of affection shall ne'er die away.
Then Flora soft sighing,
To Edward replying,
"Tis honour alone keeps true love from decay ; For, Edward, believe me,
Whene'er you deceive me,
The flower of affection will wither away.
I GREASED my brogues, and cut my stick,
At the latter end of May, Sir,
And off for England I set out,
To sail upon the sea, Sir ;
Then next to London I set out,
To reap the hay and corn, Sir,
To leave old Ireland far behind,
The place where I was born, Sir.
With my shillimah coo,
And my heart so true,
Oh! Billy O'Rouke's the boy, Sir.
I paid the captain six thirteens,
To carry me over to Pargate;
Before we got half over the waves,
It blew at a hell of a hard rate :
The great big stick that grew out of the ship,
Began to roar and whistle,
And the sailors all both great and small,
Cries, Pat, you will go to the devil.
With my, &c.
Some fell on their bended knees,
The ladies fell a fainting;
But I fell to my bread and cheese,
For I always mind the main thing.
Says the sailors, To the bottom you go,
Says I, We don't care a farthing,
For I paid my passage to Pargate you know,
And be damn'd but you'll stick to your bargain.
With my, &c.
The wind did whistle some to sleep,
Till we got to the place of landing,
And those that were the most afraid
Were out the ladies handing.
Says I, Your clothes feel mighty droll,
You surely must have riches,
And for your heart it don't lay in the right part,
It surely must lay in your breeches.
Then for London I set out,
And going along the road, Sir,
I met with an honest gentleman,
Who prov'd to be a rogue, Sir;
He cock'd a pistol to my breast,
Close to my very mouth, Sir,
Saying, Paddy my boy, I'd have ye be smart,
In handing out your money, Sir.
With my, &c.
O, have you patience, honest gentleman,
And hear me speak a word, Sir,
For twopence is all the money I've got,
To carry me many a mile, Sir.
He said he would no longer wait,
His patience I had fairly tir'd;
His pan it flash'd, his brains I smash'd,
With my shillalah that never miss'd fire.
With my, &c.
WHEN LAID ON A MOTHER'S FOND BREAST.
WHEN laid on a mother's fond breast,
That bosom the fount of my life,
That bosom my pillow of rest,
Her song of affection is rife :
Dost thou smile in thy dreams, my poor child?
Then wake not to look on pale sorrow,
Nor of infancy's joys be beguil'd,
By the woes that may reach thee to-morrow.
When sunshine my eye-lids unclos'd,
And smil'd at the radiant sky,
My knees she devoutly compos'd,
And my little hands lifted on high;
Dear baby, a Father lives there,
Who from infancy's heart chases sorrow,
Who hearing a mother's fond pray'r,
May grant thee a joyful to-morrow.
WHEN I WAS BOUND A 'PRENTICE.
WHEN I was bound a 'prentice,
In famous Somersetshire,
I sarved my master truly
For almost seven long year;
Till I took up to poaching,
As yo shall quickly hear.
Oh! its my delight on a shiny night,
In the season of the year.
As me and my comarade
Were setting o' a snare,
The game-keeper was watching us,
For him we did not care;
For we can wrestle, fight, my boys,
Jump over any where.
For its my delight, &c.
As me and my comarade,
Were setting four or five,
And taking of um up again
We ketch'd a hare alive;
We throw'd her o'er our shoulders,
And thro' the woods did steer.
Oh! its my delight, &c.
We popp'd her in a bag, my boys,
And march'd away for town,
But coming to a neighbouring inn,
We sold her for a crown,
We sold her for a crown, my boys,
But I did not tell ye where-
No-Its my delight, &c.
Then here's success to poaching,
For I do think it fair ;
Bad luck to ev'ry game-keeper
That will not sell his deer;
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