For love in sparkling wine I'll drown All care and melancholy; They are but fools who sigh and frown; For my part I'll be jolly." [Illustration: Then again the wild dance] Then again the wild dance Does each young toe entrance, And p'rhaps many an old one beside. There's antique Miss O'Riley Has coaxed Donoghue slily Just to waltz, which he ne'er before tried. For she chatted so pretty, And talked, oh, so witty, That he guessed at her age rather wide. But the maiden soon found She must drag him right round, For he could not his steps at all guide. While his arms stuck out still, Like the sails of a mill-- How young Flanagan laughed till he cried! And called out, "Take care, Tom, what sweet words you are saying; For the breach of a promise you'll not like the paying." "What are breaches of promise?" said Donoghue laughing, Who was not so well versed as his friend was in chaffing. "Oh," said Flanagan Ted, who was comical rather, "They are breeches you'll get when worn out by your father." "Oh, look, Mother!" cried Pat; "all the wood seems on fire; It was first but a spark, but it now rises higher. We shall surely get burnt, for 'tis coming this way: What a flare-up to finish a grand bridal day!" But the dame felt depressed In her feelings, and guessed He was only a-joking again. So that no heed she took, No, not even a look, Although calling he still would remain. Like the boy that we read of in old Æsop's fable, He has jested till none to believe him are able. "Come, niece, give us some punch, And of cake a slight hunch, May it taste as it looks, so uncommonly nice, That I've wished for some long, But I feared 'twould be wrong, And might p'rhaps be thought greedy to ask for a slice. All the dancers, 'tis clear, Very hungry appear, And would much be refreshed by that snow-looking ice; While some hot whisky will Perhaps warm up the chill They imbibed at the draught by not taking advice." 'Twas old Jonas thus spoke, Half in earnest, half joke, The good dame from her rev'rie to rouse. But the lady felt sad, And thought just cause she had For the grief which her spirit allows. Still the punch she prepared, Though she sharply declared She had rather not cut up the cake; For the event it should grace Had not yet taken place, And much trouble it took her to make.