  MY father was once a great merchant, As any in Ireland was found, But, faith, he could never save a shilling, Tho' potatoes he sold by the pound. So says he to my mother one night, To England suppose you and I go, And the very next day, by moonlight, They took leave of the county of Slygo. Sing de ral, ral de ral la, fal lal de, &c. That the land is all cover'd with water, 'Twixt England and Ireland, you'll own, And single misfortunes, they say, To Irishmen ne'er come alone. So my father, poor man! was first drown'd, Then shipwreck'd, in sailing from Cork, But my mother she got safe to land, And a whisky shop open'd in York. Fal de ral, &c. Just a year after father was dead, One night about five i' th' morn, An odd accident happen'd to me, For 'twas then that myself was first born. All this I've been told by my mammy, And surely she'll not tell me wrong, But I don't remember nought of it, 'Caze it happen'd when I was quite young. Fal de ral, &c. On the very same day the next year, (For so ran the story of mother,) The same accident happen'd again, But not to me then, that were brother. So 'twas settled by old father Luke, Who dissolved all our family sins, As we both were born on the same day, That we sartainly must have been twins. Fal de ral, &c. 'Twas agreed I should not go to school, As learning I never should want; Nor would they e'en teach me to read, For my genius they said it would cramp. Now this genius of mine, where it lay, Do but listen awhile and you'll hear, 'Twas in drawing,—not landscapes or pictures, No, mine was for drawing of beer. Fal de ral, &c. Some with only one genius are blest, But I, it appears, had got two, For when I had drawn off some beer, I'd a genius for drinking it too, At last I was drawn up to town, Without in my pocket a farden, But since I've earn'd many a crown By the shop here in sweet Covvon Garden. Fal de ral, &c. |
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