“Widow machree, now the summer is come, Och hone! widow machree; When everything smiles, should a beauty look glum! Och hone! widow machree. See the birds go in pairs, And the rabbits and hares-- Why even the bears Now in couples agree; And the mute little fish, Though they can't spake, they wish, Och hone! widow machree.
“Widow machree, and when winter comes in, Och hone! widow machree, To be poking the fire all alone is a sin, Och hone! widow machree, Sure the shovel and tongs To each other belongs, And the kittle sings songs Full of family glee, While alone with your cup, Like a hermit _you_ sup-- Och hone! widow machree.
“And how do you know, with the comforts I've towld, Och hone! widow machree, But you're keeping some poor fellow out in the cowld, Och hone! widow machree. With such sins on your head, Sure your peace would be fled, Could you sleep in your bed, Without thinking to see Some ghost or some sprite, That would wake you each night, Crying, 'Och hone! widow machree.'
“Then take my advice, darling widow machree, Och hone! widow machree, And with my advice, 'faith I wish you'd take me, Och hone! widow machree. You'd have me to desire Then to sit by the fire; And sure hope is no liar In whispering to me That the ghosts would depart, When you'd me near your heart, Och hone! widow machree.”
The singer was honoured with a round of applause, and his challenge for another lay was readily answered, and mirth and music filled the night and ushered in the dawn of the day which was to witness the melancholy sight of the master of an ample mansion being made the tenant of the “narrow house.”
In the evening of that day, however, the wail rose loud and long; the mirth which “the waking” permits had passed away, and the _ulican_, or funeral cry, told that the lifeless chief was being borne from his hall. That wild cry was heard even by the party who were waiting to make their horrid seizure, and for _that_ party the stone-laden coffin was sent with a retinue of mourners through the old iron gate of the principal entrance, while the mortal remains were borne by a smaller party to the river inlet and placed on the raft. Half an hour had witnessed a sham fight on the part of O'Grady's people with the bailiffs and their followers, who made the seizure they intended, and locked up their prize in an old barn to which it had been conveyed, until some engagement on the part of the heir should liberate it; while the aforesaid heir, as soon as the shadows of evening had shrouded the river in obscurity, conveyed the remains, which the myrmidons of the law fancied they possessed, to its quiet and lonely resting-place. The raft was taken in tow by a boat carrying two of the boys, and pulled by four lusty retainers of the departed chief, while Gustavus himself stood on the raft, astride over the coffin, and with an eel-spear, which had afforded him many a day's sport, performed the melancholy task of guiding it. It was a strangely painful yet beautiful sight to behold the graceful figure of the fine boy engaged in this last sad duty; with dexterous energy he plied his spear, now on this side and now on that, directing the course of the raft, or clearing it from the flaggers which interrupted its passage through the narrow inlet. This duty he had to attend to for some time, even after leaving the little inlet; for the river was much overgrown with flaggers at this point, and the increasing darkness made the task more difficult.