Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/551
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BUONAPARTE ANE THE ECHO.
533
Key.
O Paty O'Toole is a rascally fellow,
He beat his wife's head, and said—"I hope you are well, O!"
With his knocks, sir, she has in her body not a whole limb,—
A mighty great sin I must own it is of him.
"Pray say sir, do tell us, how is it," says he,
"My Molly and I cannot ever agree?"
Your Molly and you cannot ever agree,—
Very true: so I hope you will listen to me:
The reason is plain, "O come, Hymen (you said it)
Do ye tie us togather so Hymen he did it.
Since your marriage to Mary now 'tis altered, alas!
All you do is to trate your spouse as an ass.
"0 Patrick, you vixen," says Molly, and why?
You hit her a very great stroke in her eye.
Ah, Molly! her heart I fear proke as 'twere in two it is;
Woes me! for departed away sure her beauty is.
Thus the reason is plain, as well you may see,
Why your Molly and you cannot ever agree.
Be to Molly indulgent, and swate as a jelly,—
Pay respect to her sex, you know women are silly.
"Quite at your service I am," say to her, as you pat her:
"How d'ye do, Missus Molly, and what is the matter?
Arrah my honey! stay 'tis, wait a bit, d'ye see,
O Mary, my dary, come spake to me:
Agoing away is't you are, well you no more I'll lick,
O Mary, my dary, come pack to your Patrick."
Believe, I advise you, and so shall you see,
Your Molly and you may for ever agree.
Notes and Queries.
He beat his wife's head, and said—"I hope you are well, O!"
With his knocks, sir, she has in her body not a whole limb,—
A mighty great sin I must own it is of him.
"Pray say sir, do tell us, how is it," says he,
"My Molly and I cannot ever agree?"
Your Molly and you cannot ever agree,—
Very true: so I hope you will listen to me:
The reason is plain, "O come, Hymen (you said it)
Do ye tie us togather so Hymen he did it.
Since your marriage to Mary now 'tis altered, alas!
All you do is to trate your spouse as an ass.
"0 Patrick, you vixen," says Molly, and why?
You hit her a very great stroke in her eye.
Ah, Molly! her heart I fear proke as 'twere in two it is;
Woes me! for departed away sure her beauty is.
Thus the reason is plain, as well you may see,
Why your Molly and you cannot ever agree.
Be to Molly indulgent, and swate as a jelly,—
Pay respect to her sex, you know women are silly.
"Quite at your service I am," say to her, as you pat her:
"How d'ye do, Missus Molly, and what is the matter?
Arrah my honey! stay 'tis, wait a bit, d'ye see,
O Mary, my dary, come spake to me:
Agoing away is't you are, well you no more I'll lick,
O Mary, my dary, come pack to your Patrick."
Believe, I advise you, and so shall you see,
Your Molly and you may for ever agree.
Notes and Queries.
Buonaparte and the Echo.
(A Translation.)[1]
Alone, I am in this sequestered spot not overheard.
Echo—Heard!
'Sdeath! Who answers me? What being is there nigh?
I.
Now I guess! To report my accents Echo has made her task.
Ask.
Echo—Heard!
'Sdeath! Who answers me? What being is there nigh?
I.
Now I guess! To report my accents Echo has made her task.
Ask.
- ↑ The original publication, it is said, exposed the Bookseller Palm, of Nuremberg, to trial by Court Martial. He was sentenced to be shot at Brannan, in 1807.—N. & Q., Jas. J. Scott.