First Prize.
Three rascals went ranting round in the West,
Disturbing old Ireland, country and town;
“Bedad, it’s the landlords is bastes at the best!
And if ever they drive ye for rent, shoot ’em down!”
For rogues must rant, and good men must weep,
With starvation to earn, and prison to keep,
And a cry for Freedom sounding.
Three captives sat in the prison drear,
And they longed for their pipes as the sun went down;