The boys they came crowding in fast; They drew their stools close round about him. Six glims round his coffin they placed; He couldn't be well waked without 'em. I axed if he was fit for to die, Without having duly repented? Says Larry, "That's all in my eye, And all by the clergy invented To make a fat bit for themselves." Then the cards being called for, they played, Till Larry found one of them cheated. Quick! he made a hard rap at his head,-- The lad being easily heated. "So ye chates me because I'm in grief; O, is that, by the Holy, the rason? Soon I'll give you to know, you d-d thief, That you're cracking your jokes out of sason, And scuttle your nob with my fist." Then in came the priest with his book, He spoke him so smooth and so civil, Larry tipped him a Kilmainham look, And pitched his big wig to the divil. Then raising a little his head To get a sweet drop of the bottle, And pitiful sighing, he said, "O, the hemp will be soon round my throttle, And choke my poor windpipe to death!" So mournful these last words he spoke, We all vented our tears in a shower; For my part I thought my heart broke To see him cut down like a flower. On his travels we watched him next day -9 O, the hangman, I thought I could kill him! Not one word did our poor Larry say, Nor changed till he came to "King William." Och, my dear, thin his colour turned white. When he came to the nubbling chit, He was tucked up so neat and so pretty; The rumbler jogged off with his feet, And he died with his face to the city. He kicked, too, but that was all pride, For soon you might see 'twas all over; And as soon as the noose was untied, Then at darky we waked him in clover, And sent him to take a ground sweat. THE PATRIOT MOTHER |Come, tell us the name of the rebelly crew, Who lifted the pike on the Curragh with you Come, tell us the treason, and then you'll be free, Or right quickly you'll swing from the high gallows tree." ''_Alarma! Alanna!_ the shadow of shame Has never yet fallen upon one of your name, And oh! may the food from my bosom you drew, In your veins turn to poison, if _you_ turn untrue. "The foul words--oh! let them not blacken your tongue, That would prove to your friends and your country a wrong, Or the curse of a mother, so bitter and dread, With the wrath of the Lord--may they fall on your head! "I have no one but you in the whole world wide, Yet false to your pledge, you'd ne'er stand at my side: If a traitor you liv'd, you'd be farther away From my heart than, if true, you were wrapp'd in the clay. "Oh! deeper and darker the mourning would be, For your falsehood so base, than your death proud and free,