“An old maid had a roguish eye!
And she was call'd the great Kamshoodera!
Rich was she and poor was I!
Fol de dol de die do!
“I forget the rest, Mickie, but it goes on about a Nabob and a bear, and—a—what's this ye call it, a pottle of green gooseberries that Lord Clangoff sold to Mrs. Kelfoyle.”
“To be sure; I remember it well,” said Mac, humoring the drunken lucubrations; “but my chant is twice as aisy to sing,—the air is the 'Black Joke;' and any one can chorus.”
“Well, open the proceedings,” hiccuped Nickie; “state the case.”
And thus encouraged, Mr. M'Dermot cleared his throat, and in a voice loud and coarse enough to be heard above the howling din, began:—
“Though many a mile he's from Erin away,
Here 's health and long life to my Lord Castlereagh,
With his bag full of guineas so bright!
'T was he that made Bishops and Deans by the score,
And Peers, of the fashion of Lord Donoughmore!
And a Colonel of horse of our friend Billy Lake,
And Wallincourt a Lord,—t'other day but Joe Blake,
With his bag full of guineas so bright.
“Come Beresford, Bingham, Luke Fox, and Tyrone,
Come Kearney, Bob Johnston, and Arthur Malone,
With your bag full of guineas so bright;
Lord Charles Fitzgerald and Kit Fortescue,
And Henry Deane Grady,—we 'll not forget you,
Come Cuffe, Isaac Corry, and General Dunne,
And you Jemmy Vandeleur,—come every one,
With your bag full of guineas so bright.
Come Talbot and Townsend, Come Toler and Trench,
Tho' made for the gallows, ye 're now on the Bench,
With your bag full of guineas so bright
But if ever again this black list I 'll begin,
The first name I 'll take is the ould Knight of Gwynne,
Who, robb'd of his property, stripped of his pelf,
Would be glad to see Erin as poor as himself.
With no bag full of guineas so bright.
“If the Parliament 's gone, and the world it has scoffed us,
What a blessing to think that we 've Tottenham Loftus,
With his bag full of guineas so bright.
Oh, what consolation through every disaster,
To know that your Lordship is made our Postmaster,
And your uncle a Bishop, your aunt—but why mention,
Two thousand a year, 'of a long service pension'
Of a bag full of guineas so bright.
“But what is the change, since your Lordship appears!
You found us all Paupers, you left us all Peers,
With your bag full of guineas so bright.
Not a man in the island, however he boast,
But has a good reason to fill to the toast,—
From Cork to the Causeway, from Howth to Clue Bay,
A health and long life to my Lord Castlereagh,
With his bag full of guineas so bright.”
The boisterous accompaniment by which Mr. Nickie testified his satisfaction at the early verses had gradually subsided into a low droning sound, which at length, towards the conclusion, lapsed into a prolonged heavy snore. “Fast!” exclaimed M'Dermot, holding the candle close to his eyes. “Fast!” Then taking up the decanter, he added, “And if ye had gone off before, it would have been no great harm. Ye never had the bottle out of yer grip for the last hour and half!” He heaped some wood on the grate, refilled his glass, and then disposing himself so as to usurp a very large share of the blazing fire, prepared to follow the good example of his chief. Long habit had made an arm-chair to the full as comfortable as a bed to the worthy functionary, and his arrangements were scarcely completed, when his nose announced by a deep sound that he was a wanderer in the land of dreams.
Poor Mr. Dempsey—for if the reader may have forgotten him all this while, we must not—listened long and watchfully to the heavy notes, nor was it without considerable fear that he ventured to unveil his head and take a peep under Daly's arm at the sleepers. Reassured by the seeming heaviness of the slumberers, he dared a step farther, and at last seated himself bolt upright in the canoe, glad to relieve his cramped-up legs, even by this momentary change of position. So cautious were all his movements, so still and noiseless every gesture, that had there been a waking eye to mark him, it would have been hard enough to distinguish between his figure and those of his inanimate neighbors.
