Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun! 'Tis oft I sat on my true love's knee, Many a fond story he told to me, He told me things that ne'er shall be, Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun. Shule, shule, shule agra! Only death can ease my woe, Since the lad of my heart from me did go, Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun! * Farewell, my darling. ** Come, come, my love! I sold my rock, * I sold my reel; ** When my flax was spun, I sold my wheel, To buy my love a sword of steel, Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun! Shule, shule, shule agra! Only death can ease my woe, Since the lad of my heart from me did go, Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun. But when King James was forced to flee, The Wild Geesef spread their wings to sea, And bore mabouchal *** far from me, Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun! Shule, shule, shule agra! Only death can ease my woe, Since the lad of my heart from me did go, Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun! I saw them sail from Brandon Hill, Then down I sat and cried my fill, That every tear would turn a mill, Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun! Shule, shule, shule agra! Only death can ease my woe, Since the lad of my heart from me did go, Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun! * _Two parts of Irish spinning wheel. ** Irish Jacobites who joined the French army when the cause of James II. was lost. *** My boy._ I wish the King would return to reign, And bring my true love back again; I wish, and wish, but I wish in vain, Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun! Shule, shule, shule agra! Only death can ease my woe, Since the lad of my heart from me did go, Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun! Ill dye my petticoat, I'll dye it red, * And round the world I'll beg my bread, Till I find my love alive or dead, Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun!, Shule, shule, shule agra! Only death can ease my woe, Since the lad of my heart from me did go, Go-thee-thu, mavourneen slaun! ---Anon. Adapted by A. P. Graves. THE NIGHT BEFORE LARRY WAS STRETCHED |The night before Larry was stretched, The boys they all paid him a visit; A bit in their sacks too they fetched, They sweated their duds till they riz it; * Beggars of those days were required by the law to wear red petticoats. For Larry was always the lad, When a friend was condemned to the squeezer, But he'd fence all the togs that he had Just to help the poor boy to a sneezer, And moisten his gob 'fore he died. "'Pon my conscience, dear Larry," says I, "I'm sorry to see you in trouble, Your life's cheerful noggin run dry, And yourself going off like its bubble." "Hould your tongue in that matter," says he; "For the neckcloth I don't care a button, And by this time to-morrow you'll see Your Larry will be dead as mutton: All for what?'Kase his courage was good."