"Och hone! but it's hard that a swate Good-lookin' young chap like myself indade, Should loose his ten shillins a day Because of the throuble the South has made: But that's just the raison, ye see, Why I should help Union to win again It's that will bring wages once more"-- "You're right, sir," says Misther McFinnigan. "Joost mind what ould England's about, A sendin' her throops into Canaday; And all her ould ships on the coast Are ripe for some treachery any day. Now if she should mix in the war-- Be jabers! it makes me head spin again! _Ould Ireland would have such a chance!_"-- "You're right, sir," says Misther McFinnigan. "You talk about Irishmen, now, Enlistin' by thousands from loyalty; But _wait till the Phoenix Brigade Is called to put down British Royalty_! It's then with the Stars and the Stripes All Irishmen here would go in again, To strike for the Shamrock and Harp!"-- "You're right, sir," says Misther McFinnigan. "Och, murther! me blood's in a blaze, To think of bould Corcoran leading us Right into the camp of the bastes Whose leeches so long have been bleeding us! The Stars and the Stripes here at home To Canada's walls we would pin again, And wouldn't we raise them in Cork?"-- "You're right, sir," says Misther McFinnigan. "And down at the South, do ye mind, There's plinty of Irishmen mustering, Deluded to fight for the wrong By rebel mis-statements and blustering; But once let ould England, their foe, To fight with the Union begin again, And sure, they'd desert to a man!"-- "You're right, sir," says Misther McFinnigan. "There's niver an Irishmen born, From Maine to the end of Secessiondom. But longs for a time and a chance To fight for this country in Hessian-dom; And so, if ould England should try With treacherous friendship to sin again, They'll all be on one side at once"-- "You're right, sir," says Misther McFinnigan. "We've brothers in Canada, too-- (And didn't the Prince have a taste of them?)-- To say that to Ireland they're true Is certainly saying the laste of them. If, bearing our flag at our head, We rose Ireland's freedom to win again, They'd murther John Bull in the rear!"-- "You're right, sir," says Misther McFinnigan. "Hurroo! for the Union, me boys, And divil take all who would bother it, Secession's a nagur so black The divil himself ought to father it; Hurroo! for the bould 69th, That's prisintly bound to go in again; It's Corcoran's rescue they're at"-- "You're right, sir," says Misther McFinnigan.