’Twas at the Pig and Cat Where Judy met her Pat, With his big nose so red: “Oh!” says she, “you are untrue; And faith, I’ll punish you,” And then she broke his head! Her brother Ted was standing by, Who nately black’d her father’s eye, For he was bold and frisky; Yet through the bogs this was the cry, Ireland expects you won’t be shy, But fight for love and whiskey! (_Two verses omitted._) [Illustration] THE BRITISH GRENADIERS. Some talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules, Of Hector and Lysander, and such great names as these; But of all the world’s brave heroes, there’s none that can compare, With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, row, to the British grenadier. Those heroes of antiquity ne’er saw a cannon-ball, Or knew the force of powder to slay their foes withal; But our brave boys do know it, and banish all their fears, Sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, row, to the British grenadiers. Then Jove the god of thunder, and Mars the god of war, Brave Neptune with his trident, Apollo in his car, And all the gods celestial, descending from their spheres, Behold with admiration the British grenadiers. Whene’er we are commanded to storm the palisades, Our leaders march with fusees, and we with hand grenades; We throw them from the glacis about the Frenchman’s ears, With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, row, for the British grenadiers. And when the siege is over, we to the town repair, The townsmen cry huzza, boys, here comes a grenadier,―― Here come the grenadiers, my boys, who know no doubts or fears. Then sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, row, for the British grenadiers. Then let us fill a bumper, and drink a health to those Who carry caps and pouches, and wear the loopèd clothes. May they and their commanders live happy all their years, With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, row, for the British grenadiers! ANONYMOUS. (_Written about_ 1760.) ―――― THE BRITISH GRENADIERS. Upon the plains of Flanders, Our fathers long ago, They fought like Alexanders Beneath old Marlborough; And still in fields of conquest, Our valour bright has shown, With Wolfe and Abercrombie, And Moore and Wellington. Our plumes have waved in combats, That ne’er shall be forgot, Where many a mighty squadron Reeled backwards from our shot. In charges with the bayonet, We led our bold compeers; But Frenchmen like to stay not For British Grenadiers.