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Och jewel, keep dhraming that same till you | I'd give up the whole world and in banishment
die,
die;

And bright morning will give dirty night the But Nancy came by, a round plump little crea-
black lie!

And 't is plazed that I am, and why not, to be
sure?

Since 't is all for good luck," says bold Rory
O'More.

ture,

And fixed in my heart quite another design. 'Tis a bit of a thing that a body might sing Just to set us a-going and season the wine.

Little Nance, like a Hebe, was buxom and gay,

'Arrah, Kathleen, my darlint, you've teazed Had a bloom like the rose and was fresher than
me enough;
May;

Sure, I've thrashed, for your sake, Dinny Grimes O, I felt if she frowned I would die by a rope,
and Jim Duff;
And my bosom would burst if she slighted my

And I've made myself, drinking your health,
quite a baste,

So I think, after that, I may talk to the priest."
Then Rory, the rogue, stole his arm round her
neck,

So soft and so white, without freckle or speck;
And he looked in her eyes, that were beaming
with light,

And he kissed her sweet lips - Don't you think
he was right?
"Now, Rory, leave off, sir

more,

you'll hug me no

That's eight times to-day you have kissed me
before."

"Then here goes another," says he, "to make

sure,

hope;

But the slim, taper, elegant Fanny looked at me,

And, troth, I no longer for Nancy could pine. 'T is a bit of a thing that a body might sing

Just to set us a-going and season the wine.

Now Fanny's light frame was so slender and fine
That she skimmed in the air like a shadow divine.
Her motion bewitched, and to my loving eye
"T was an angel soft gliding 'twixt earth and the
sky.

'T was all mighty well till I saw her fat sister,
And that gave a turn I could never define.
"T is a bit of a thing that a body might sing
Just to set us a-going and season the wine.

For there's luck in odd numbers," says Rory, so I go on, ever constantly blest,

O, THAT 's what you mean now, a bit of a song,
Arrah, faith, then here goes, you sha'n't bother
me long ;

I require no teazing, no praying, nor stuff,
By my soul, if you wish it, I'm ready enough
To give you no end; you shall have a beginning,
And, troth, though the music is not over fine,
"T is a bit of a thing that a body might sing

Just to set us a-going and season the wine.

O, I once was a lover, like some of you here,
And could feed a whole night on a sigh or a tear,
No sunshine I knew but from Kitty's black eye,
And the world was a desert when she was n't by;
But the devil knows how, I got fond of Miss
Betty,

And Kitty slipt out of this bosom of mine.
'T is a bit of a thing that a body might sing
Just to set us a-going and season the wine.

Now Betty had eyes soft and blue as the sky,
And the lily was black when her bosom was nigh;
O, I vowed and I swore if she'd not a kind eye

For I find I've a great stock of love in my breast;
And it never grows less, for whenever I try
To get one in my heart, I get two in my eye.
To all kinds of beauty I bow with devotion,

And all kinds of liquor by turns I make mine;
So I'll finish the thing that another may sing,
Just to keep us a-going and season the wine.

O LOVELY Mary Donnelly, it's you I love the And you to be his lady, I'd own it was but right. best !

If fifty girls were round you, I'd hardly see the O, might we live together in lofty palace hall, rest; Where joyful music rises, and where scarlet curtains fall;

Be what it may the time of day, the place be where it will,

Sweet looks of Mary Donnelly, they bloom before me still.

Her hair 's the brag of Ireland, so weighty and I'd been away from her three years, - about that, so fine, And I returned to find my Mary true; It's rolling down upon her neck, and gathered And though I 'd question her, I did not doubt that in a twine. It was unnecessary so to do.

"Quoth she, "that I am Mrs. Vere. Then take my advice, darling widow machree,—

I don't call that unfaithfulness-do you?" "No," I replied, "for I am married too."