Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/476
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THE IRISH TRAVELLER.
I'm just about a medium size,
Black hair I have, and large dark eyes;
And though some say that I am vain,
I never dress but very plain.
Black hair I have, and large dark eyes;
And though some say that I am vain,
I never dress but very plain.
With all these qualities combined,
A husband I must surely find;
For an old maid I will not be,
Although I'm nearly twenty-three.
A husband I must surely find;
For an old maid I will not be,
Although I'm nearly twenty-three.
So I my case make known to you;
For this is all that I can do;
I hope some one will gallant be,
And come at once and marry me.
For this is all that I can do;
I hope some one will gallant be,
And come at once and marry me.
And mind I am not ill to please,
I do not wish for wealth or ease;
A husband sober, good, and kind,
Is all that I would wish to find.
I do not wish for wealth or ease;
A husband sober, good, and kind,
Is all that I would wish to find.
And now I'll tell you where I dwell—
It's very near the Corbie Well,
I'm sure the house you must have seen;
And mind to ask for Mizie Green.
It's very near the Corbie Well,
I'm sure the house you must have seen;
And mind to ask for Mizie Green.
The Irish Traveller.
An Irishman travelling (though not for delight)
Arrived in a city one cold winter's night,
Found the landlord and servants in bed at the inn,
While standing without he was drenched to the skin.
He groped for the knocker, no knocker was found,
When turning his head accidentally round,
He saw, as he thought, by the lamp's feeble ray,
The object he searched for right over the way.
The knocker he grasped, and so loud was the roar,
It seemed like a sledge breaking open the door;
The street, far and wide, was disturbed by the clang,
And resounded aloud with the Irishman's bang.
The wife screamed aloud, and the husband appears
At the window, his shoulders shrugged up to his ears;
"So ho! honest friend—pray what is the matter!
That at this time of night you should make such a clatter
"Go to bed, go to bed," says Pat, "my dear honey,
I am not a robber to ask for your money,
I borrowed your knocker, before it is day,
To waken the landlord right over the way."
Arrived in a city one cold winter's night,
Found the landlord and servants in bed at the inn,
While standing without he was drenched to the skin.
He groped for the knocker, no knocker was found,
When turning his head accidentally round,
He saw, as he thought, by the lamp's feeble ray,
The object he searched for right over the way.
The knocker he grasped, and so loud was the roar,
It seemed like a sledge breaking open the door;
The street, far and wide, was disturbed by the clang,
And resounded aloud with the Irishman's bang.
The wife screamed aloud, and the husband appears
At the window, his shoulders shrugged up to his ears;
"So ho! honest friend—pray what is the matter!
That at this time of night you should make such a clatter
"Go to bed, go to bed," says Pat, "my dear honey,
I am not a robber to ask for your money,
I borrowed your knocker, before it is day,
To waken the landlord right over the way."