AN OLD SONG REVIVED.
(As sung by the Champion Ulster "Comique," Colonel S-nd-rs-n, to the old tune of "De Groves of de Pool," written by "honest Dick Millikin.")
Whillaloo! If they droive us to foighting,
'Tis ourselves who will lead 'em a dance,
Till, loike the Cork bhoys, they're deloighting,
Back again to their homes to advance!
No longer in beating such rebels
We'll take than in baiting a bull.
How they'll squake, in effeminate trebles,
When Ulster's battalions are full!
Ri fol didder rol didder rol!
We trate 'em as loving relations?
We trust to the "Union of Hearts"?
We heed the Grand Old One's orations?
We play the Minority's parts?
We bow to the yoke of TIM HEALY?
We stoop to the Papisthry rule?
Faix! them who imagine it really
Must fancy that "Orange" spells "fool."
Ri fol didder rol didder rol!
We consint to a sham House o' Commons
Established on ould College Green?
They fancy we're Radical rum 'uns!
Allaygiance we owe to our QUEEN!
But we're fly to their thraitorous dodges;
Our loyalty's edge would they dull?
Fwit! We'll pour like a flood from our Lodges,
And crack every "National" skull!
Ri fol didder rol didder rol!
We're all friends of Law and of Order,
But would they wrench us from the Crown?
We'll soon be a-singing "Boyne Water,"
And marching to "Croppies, lie down!"
'Tis we have the Men and the Money,
We don't want to foight, we're quite cool.
But, by Jingo, our foes will look funny,
When Ulster turns out 'gin Home Rule!
Ri fol didder rol didder rol!
To-day in our myriads we muster.
Friendly warning is all that we mean.
About SOLLY's "incitement" Rads fluster;
We're thrue to the Crown and the QUEEN:
But Ulster no "pathriot" shall sever,
And Ulster no "Papish" shall school.
Whillaloo! Here's the Union for ever,
And into the Boyne wid Home Rule!
Ri fol didder rol didder rol!
Och! Here's to Dutch WILLIAM the Pious!
And here's to VICTORIA the Good!
If they think we won't foight, let 'em try us!
They mock at an Orangeman's mood,
But once set the Green 'gainst the Yellow,
(Wid no one our coat-tails to pull,)
And I pity the pathriots who bellow
(Like bhoys in a bog) for Home Rule!
Ri fol didder rol didder rol!
Come, all loyal props of the nation,
Come fill up a bumper all round!
Drink success to our great federation;
With Brummy JOE's blessing 'tis crowned.
He says we are heroes, right stingo,
He vows W.G.'s an old fool.
No, we don't want to fight, but, by Jingo,
Whin we do—it's all up wid Home Rule!
Ri fol didder rol didder rol!
[Left "bombinating."