In the mornin' ye walk
Wid yer swateheart, and talk
Whin a Sun-sthroke from hivin down-flashes,
And the gurl, clane and nate,
Lies kilt at yer fate,
A hape ov shmoulderin' ashes!
What wid scorp yins, and chayters,
Loikewoise man-aters,
Bloodsuckers, and foxes that floi, sur,
Insicts wid stings,
And ants wid long wings,
And flois that git into yer oi, sur;
And buzzin' muskayters,
And bould Alligayters
That grab ye on interin' a river,
And cholera sazin' ye,
And dysentery tazin' ye,
And pains from inlargemint ov liver;—
Ochone! There's a tear in
Me oi for ould Erin,
That imerald jewil ov natur'!
As here I sit thinkin'
Ov you, Mike,—and drinkin'
Some rale iligant "Kinnahan's" cratur'.
The Engineer's Love-Song.
O the days were bleak and dark,
Sweet Miss Annie Cut,
Ere thy charms I chanced to mark.
Sweet Miss Annie Cut.
O the days were lone and drear
Ere I chanced to wander here
As thy blissful Engineer,
Sweet Miss Annie Cut.
Ne'er shall I forget the hour,
Sweet Miss Annie Cut,
When my heart first owned thy power,
Sweet Miss Annie Cut;
When, while turbidly and wide
Boiled the Kristna's swollen tide,
Thee, O lovely nymph, I spied,
Sweet Miss Annie Cut.
Amorous waters o'er thee swept,
Sweet Miss Annie Cut,
Flash'd and surged and whirl'd and leapt
Sweet Miss Annie Cut.
Thou, O queenly maid, the while
Seated on thy throne-like pile,
Awed them with thy granite smile,
Sweet Miss Annie Cut.
O silent nymph, through shower through shine,
Sweet Miss Annie Cut,
Bought by that smile, this heart is thine,
Sweet Miss Annie Cut.
Day by day I watch thy face,
Watch thy slender form of grace,
Watch thee growing in thy place,
Sweet Miss Annie Cut.
When waves, drought-wasted, languidly,
Sweet Miss Annie Cut,
Creep to thee for one kiss,—then die,
Sweet Miss Annie Cut,
Or when the rash Monsoon comes down
With hurrying eddies tumbling brown
That blanch to foam before thy frown,
Sweet Miss Annie Cut,—