Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/477
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Irish Angling.
An Irishman fishing one day in the Liffey,
Which runs close by Dublin's great city so fine,
A smart shower of rain falling, Pat, in a jiffey,
Crept under the arch of the bridge with his line.
Which runs close by Dublin's great city so fine,
A smart shower of rain falling, Pat, in a jiffey,
Crept under the arch of the bridge with his line.
"That's never the way to accomplish your wishes,"
Cries Dermot, "there never a bite will you get."
"Sure my honey," cries Pat, "don't you know that the fishes
Will swim under here, to keep out of the wet."
Cries Dermot, "there never a bite will you get."
"Sure my honey," cries Pat, "don't you know that the fishes
Will swim under here, to keep out of the wet."
"One Good Turn Deserves Another."
Willie Wag went to see Charlie Quirk,
More famed for his books than his knowledge,
In order to borrow a work
He had looked for in vain over college.
But Charlie replied, "My dear friend,
You must know I have sworn and agreed,
My books from my room not to lend;
But, pray, sit by my fire and read!"
More famed for his books than his knowledge,
In order to borrow a work
He had looked for in vain over college.
But Charlie replied, "My dear friend,
You must know I have sworn and agreed,
My books from my room not to lend;
But, pray, sit by my fire and read!"
Now it happened by chance on the morrow,
That Quirk, with a cold, shivering air,
Came his neighbour Will's bellows to borrow,
His own being out of repair.
But Willie replied, "My dear friend,
I have sworn and agreed you must know,
That my bellows I never will lend;
But, pray, sit by my fire and blow!"
That Quirk, with a cold, shivering air,
Came his neighbour Will's bellows to borrow,
His own being out of repair.
But Willie replied, "My dear friend,
I have sworn and agreed you must know,
That my bellows I never will lend;
But, pray, sit by my fire and blow!"
The Ill Wind.
In debt, deserted, and forlorn,
A melancholy elf
Resolved, upon a Monday morn,
To go and hang himself.
A melancholy elf
Resolved, upon a Monday morn,
To go and hang himself.
He reached the tree, when lo! he views
A pot of gold concealed;
He snatched it up, threw down the noose,
And scampered from the field.
A pot of gold concealed;
He snatched it up, threw down the noose,
And scampered from the field.