ST. PATRICK'S DAY. _An Irish Mellow-day._
It was Paddy O'Murrough that lov'd Mistress Casey: In ribbons for her he would squander his pelf; And he swore that without her he'd never be aisy, And sent her big praties to roast for herself.
He said she was "Vanus, and Mars, and Apolly," And twenty more goddesses up in de skies: And never tired praising her swate little ankle, And her swate little mouth, and her swate little eyes.
Says he, "Let de rest git dere bunches o' roses, And stick 'em so iligant top o' dere head: Och! Nora don't nade sich bamboozlificashin: Her own purty locks is as bright an' as red.
"So, Nora, my darlint, now take pity on me— Ochone! but 'tis luv is de terrible smart! An och, bodderashin! 'tis Misther O'Cupid Wid his little shilaly is breakin' my heart!"
'Twas Lent when Pat said so,—but Nora said, "No, Sir;" She knew 'twas no use at that time to consent; But by Mothering Sunday Pat found her much softer, And before Lent was over, he saw her relent.
The day was soon fixed—Easter Monday, be sure, The time seem'd to Pat a snail's gallop to go; "By de hokey!" says he, "is it fast days dey call 'em? For fast days I tink dey move murtherous slow."
At length Easter Monday arrived bright and gay, Saint Patrick's Day too—nothing could be more pat To chapel away they all went—in a _buss_: For a wedding, what carriage so proper as that?
So the knot was soon happily tied—tho' I know There are some in the world think it wrong thus to tie men; That the poor have no right to get married at all; And that low men have no sort of bus'ness with Hymen.
Return'd, they sat down to an iligant feast: An divil the knife or the fork that lies idle; There's praties in plenty, pig-puddings, and pork, And a saddle of mutton, to match with the bridal.
And then comes the dance, and the drink, and the toast: "Pat Murrough, your health—you're a broth of a b'y" Och! how tipsy they were! e'en the clargy himself, Like Pity, was seen with a drop in his eye.
Then in comes Mick Larry, Pat Murrough's old rival, With a lot of his friends from Sev'n Dials direct; And och! what a scrimmige and murther intirely! And then the police comes, the peace to protect.
Then straight to the beak Paddy Murrough is taken: Mick Larry himself 'tis appears against Pat; Says the beak, "You're with bigamy charged, Paddy Murrough!" "Och, big'my! 'tis little I know sure of that!"