WIGS ON THE GREEN;
Or, the Friends of United Ireland.
Air—"Enniscorthy."
You may travel over Europe till your heart and foot-soles ache,
You may meet wid many a warrior, but don't make a mistake,
The wondher of the wurruld, and of pathriots wide-awake,
Is the Parthy that is "led" by poor McCarthy.
The way they "pull together" fills a man wid shame and dread;
They're all in love wid Erin swate—or lasteways so 'tis said—
And the way each proves his passion is by breaking 'tother's head,
'Tis that that plays the mischief wid McCarthy.
Chorus.
For Dillon goes for Healy'S chump,
And at O'Brien aims a thump,
And Redmond hits all round with anger hearthy;
And the sticks they all go whacking,
And the skulls, faith, they are cracking.
When Justin tries to lead the Oirish Parthy!
When they got "a little cheque" or two a desperate row arose,
Tim Healy dashed at "Honest John" and fought him to a close,
And Redmond showed designs upon O'Brien's classic nose,
It was that which riz the dander of McCarthy.
They hustled round poor Erin so they nearly knocked her down,
She barely dodged a cudgel that was aimed at Dillon's crown,
"And och!" she sighed, "if this is love a colleen well may frown
On the wooing of a crack-brained Oirish Parthy."
Chorus.—For Dillon went for Healy's chump, &c.
They were all fast "friends" of Erin, they'd declared so o'er and o'er,
But Healy scorned O'Brien, and deemed Honest John a bore;
While Redmond called them liars all, and sycophants, and swore
He wouldn't hold a candle to McCarthy.
There wasn't much to foight about save mutual hate and spleen,
And yet such a shillelagh-foight at Donnybrook ne'er was seen;
Black oies, red noses! Faith it looked as though they'd strew the Green
Wid the fragments of the "Chief" they called McCarthy.
Chorus.—For Dillon went for Healy's nose, &c.
And all their inimies looked on, and laughed as they would doie;
And every friend of Erin wiped a tear from sorrow's oie;
Saying "If such friends of Unity why ever don't they trroy
To show a firm united Oirish Parthy?"
Sighed Erin "Would to Providence this faction-foight were done!
It breaks the hearts of pathriots, to my foes 'tis purest fun,
Why can't they sthop these parthy-sphlits and merge them into One?
That's all that now is needed,—ax McCarthy!"
Chorus.
But Dillon goes for Healy's chump,
He at O'Brien aims a thump,
And Redmond hits all round with anger hearthy;
And the sticks they still go whacking,
And the skulls they still are cracking.
Whosoever tries to lead the Oirish Parthy!
"WIGS ON THE GREEN!"
OR, THE FRIENDS OF UNITED IRELAND(?).