My mother dozed before the fire, My dad his pipe was smoking, I dare not for a word retire, And was not that provoking? At length the old folks fell asleep, I then my promised word to keep, And for his absence did denote, He on the window shutters wrote, “Remember, love, remember.” And did I heed a treat so sweet? Oh, yes! and mark the warning, He said at church we were to meet, At ten o’clock next morning; And then we meet no more to part, To twine for ever hand and heart; And since that day in wedlock join’d, The window shutters bring to mind, “Remember, love, remember.” The Gold-Digger’s Lament. 48 I am going far away from my creditors just now, I ain’t got the tin to pay ’em, and they’re kicking up a row; There’s the sheriff running after me with pockets full of writs, And my tailor’s vowing vengeance, he swears he’ll give me fits. There’s no room for speculation, and the mines ain’t worth a flam, And I ain’t one of those lucky coves that works for _Uncle Sam_; Whichever way I turn I am sure to meet a dun, “So I think the best thing I can do is just to cut and run.” I wish those “tarnal critters” that wrote home about the gold, Was in the place the Scriptures say is never very cold; They told you of the heaps of dust and lumps so very big, But they never said a single word how hard you had to dig. I went up to the mines and help’d to turn a stream, Got trusted on the strength of that delusive golden dream; But when the river we turn’d, we found it would not do, And we who damm’d the river our creditors did sue. I am going far away, but I don’t know where I’ll go, ’Twont do to turn homeward now, they’d laugh at me I know, For I told them when I left I was going to make my pile, But if they could only see mine now I rather guess they’d smile. If of these United States I was the President, No man who owed another should ever pay a cent; And he who dunn’d another should be banish’d far away, For attention to the pretty girls is all a man should pay. The Boys of Kilkenny. 49 Oh, the boys of Kilkenny are brave roaring blades, And if ever they meet with the nice little maids, They’ll kiss them and coax them, and spend their money free, Of all the towns in Ireland, Kilkenny for me. In the town of Kilkenny there runs a clear strame, In the town of Kilkenny there lives a pretty dame, Her lips are like roses and her mouth much the same. Like a dish of fresh strawberries smother’d in crame.