  The fairy Queen M ANY an intelligent reader will perceive that the following is a pathetic plaint founded on fact. A moral, conveyed in a polyglot sample of weak passages from many a knowing man's career. In one noted instance, the writer while reciting the ballad, closely escaped the chance of assassination, at the hand of a member of the audience, that he fancied it was a versification of his own particular experience, made public, and brought so circumstantially home to him, that he felt the eyes of all were concentrated upon him as the hero of the ballad. Happily he did not carry a revolver, or it would most likely have exploded suddenly in the direction of the platform. But mutual explanations and further enquiry elicited the information that more than one man of that audience occupied the same lamplit boat of retrospect misfortune. Corney Keegan relates his adventure with the picturesque force, derived from practical experience, and many an aching heart will go out to him in sympathy. His story teaches a comprehensive, solemn, and beautiful lesson. M E mother often spoke to me,"Corney me boy," siz she, "There's luck in store for you agra! You've been so kind to me! Down be the rath in Reilly's Park They say that Larry Shawn That's gone away across the say, Once cotch a Leprechawn. He grabbed him be the scruff so hard, The little crather swore, That if bowld Larry'd let him go, He should be poor no more! "Just look behind ye Larry dear," Screeched out the chokin' elf, "There's hapes of goold in buckets there, It's all for Larry's self! If Larry lets the little man Go free again, he'll be No longer poor but rich an' great!" So Larry let him free. Some say he carried home the goold An' hid it in the aves, But some say when the elf was gone 'Twas turned to withered laves. "If Larry cotch a Leprechawn," Me mother then 'ed cry, "Why you may ketch a fairy queen, Ma bouchal by an' by!" Near Balligarry now she sleeps, Where great O'Brien bled, And often since I took a thought, Of what me mother said. At last I came to Dublin town, To thry an' sell some pigs, And maybe then I didn't cut A quare owld shine of rigs. I sowld me pigs for forty pound, For they wor clane an' fat, An' thin we hadn't American mate, So they wor chape at that! "Well now," sez I, "me pocket's full, I'll not go home just yit, I'll take a twist up thro' the town An' thrate meself a bit," I mosey'd round to Sackville Street, When starin' round me best, I seen a darlin' colleen there, Most beautifully dhressed. A posy in her leghorn hat, An' round her neck, a ruff Of black cock's feathers, jacket too, Of raal expensive stuff, A silver ferruled umberell' In hand with yalla kid, An' thro' a great big hairy muff Her other hand was hid, illustration illustration illustration O like a sweet come-all-ye, in A waltzin' swing, she swep' The toepath, with the music of Her silken skirt, an' step, To see her turn the corner, thro' The lamplight comin' down, You'd think she owned the freehowld of That part of Dublin town! You'd think she owned the sky above, It's moon with all the stars, The thraffic in the streets below, Their thrams, an' carts, an' cars! You'd think that she was landlady, Of all that she could see, An' faith regardin' of meself, She made her own of me! An' up to me she came, I took a start, to hear her there, Pronouncin' out me name; "O Corney, there ye are!" siz she Wid raal familiar smile, An' thin begar she took me arm, Most coaxingly the while; I fluttered like a butterfly, That's born the first of May, Wid pride, as if I had the right Hand side, the Judgment Day! I felt as airy as a lark that Skies it from the ground, To think she'd walk wid me, poor chap, Wid only forty pound! She took me arm, an' thrapsed wid me, All down be Sackville Sthreet, An' colleens beautifully dhressed, In two's and three's, we meet, An' men that grinned, a greenish grin, Of envy from their eye, To see me wid that lady grand, Like paycock marchin' by. Till comin' to a lamp, I turned, An' gazed into her eyes, Me heart that minute took me throat Wid lump of glad surprise, Are sparklin' awful keen, "I'm sure," siz I, "I've come across, Me mother's Fairy Queen!" "O Corney yis," siz she, "I am, A Fairy Queen;" siz she, "An' I can make yer fortune now, If you'll just come with me." Wid that, I ups and says "of coorse!" As bowld as I could spake, "An' sure I will me darlin', if Its only for your sake." illustration Well, whin we passed the statutes white, Up to O'Connell Brudge, The Fairy Queen smiled up at me, An' gev a knowin' nudge, "Corney!" siz she, "I want a dhrink!" "Do ye me dear?" siz I, An' on the minute faith I felt, Meself was shockin' dhry. Well then she brought me coorsin off, Down be the Liffy's walls, An' up a narra gloomy sthreet, Up to a Palace Halls! An' there they wor, all splindid lit, "Come in me love," siz she. I thought me heart'ed brake, to hear Her spake so kind to me! Well in we wint, an' down we sat, Behind a marvel schreen, An' there we dhrank, of drink galore, Me an' the Fairy Queen. She spoke by alphabetic signs, Siz she, "We'll have J.J. An' whin we swalley'd that, siz she, "L.L. is raal O.K." We tossed them off like milk, siz she, "At these we need'nt stick, D. W. D.'s a quench you'll find, A. I, an' up to Dick!" Well thin she left the alphabet, An' flying to the sky, "The three star brand's the best" siz she, "To sparkle up your eye," Thin "here!" says she "just taste Owld Tom," But augh! agin me grain It wint! siz she "It's mum's the word, We'll cure it, wid champagne!" I never drank such sortin's, of The drink, in all me life, Signs on it, in the mornin', me Digestion, was at strife! At last, we qualified our drooth, An' up she got, siz she, "We'll just retire to private life, So Corney, come wid me." But just before I stood to go, I siz quite aisy "Miss, You might bestow poor Corney K. One little simple kiss." "Ah! Corney tibbey, sure," said she, "Two if ye like, ye thrush!" O have ye saw the blackberries, Upon the brambly bush? The Johnny Magory still is bright, Whin all the flowers are dead, Her hair, was like the blackberries! Her dhress, Magory red! O have you ever saunthered out Upon a winther's night, Whin the crispy frost, is on the ground, An' all the stars, are bright? Then have you bent your awe sthrick gaze, There, up aginst the skies? The stars are very bright, you think, Well thim was just her eyes illustration Were you ever down at the strawberry beds, An' seen them dhrowned in chrame? Well that was her complexion, and Her teeth, wor shockin' white! An' the music of her laughin' chaff, Was like a beggar's dhrame, Whin he hears the silver jingle, and His rags are out of sight! I thought the dhrop of dhrink was free, But throth I had to pay! I thought it quare, but then I thought, It was the fairy's way; "Howld on" siz I, "she's thryin' me, Have I an open heart, Before she makes me fortune," so, Begar! I took a start Of reckless generosity, An' flung me money round, 'Twas scatthered on the table! In Her lap, an' on the ground! I seen it glitter in the air, Before me wondherin' eyes, Like little yalla breasted imps, All dhroppin from the skies! O then I knew that it was threw, She was a Fairy Queen, The goold, came dhroppin'! whoppin'! hoppin' The like was never seen! I gave a whipping screech of joy! Whin, wid a sudden whack, Some hidden wizard, riz his wand, An' sthruck me from the back, Down came the clout upon the brain, An' froze me senses quite, An' over all me joy at once, There shot the darkest night! I knew no more, till I awoke, An' found meself alone, I thrust me hand, to grasp me purse, Me forty pounds wor gone! O then, with awful cursin', if I didn't raise the scenes, "Bad luck!" siz I, "to Leprechauns, Bad scran, to Fairy Queens! Bad luck to them, that spreads abroad, Such shockin' lyin' tales, Bad scran has me, that tears me hair, An' forty pounds bewails!" With that, I seen a man, come up, A dark arch, marchin' thro', As if he hadn't any work, Particular to do. He measured me, wid selfish eye, As cat regards a rat, An' whin he spoke, begor I found, 'Twas just his price at that! Siz he "What's all this squealin' for? What makes ye bawl?" siz he, Siz he, "I'm a dissective, so, You'll have to come wid me!" Siz he, "Yer shouts wor almost loud Enough, to crack the delph! An' in the mornin' I must bring Ye up, before himself!" "Arrah! What for?" siz I, an' thin, I towld him all me woe, An' how I woke, an' found meself Asleep, an' lyin' low. I towld him of the whipsther, that Had whipped me forty pound, An' left me lyin' fast asleep, In gutther, on the ground. Then leerin' like, he turned, and siz, "You're a nice boy! complate! To go wid Fairy Queens, like that, An' lose yer purse, so nate. Corney!" siz he, "go home!" siz he, "She might have sarved ye worse, I'll thry me best, to ketch the Fay, An' get you back yer purse. But look! don't shout like that again, It was a shockin' shout, It sthruck me, 'twas a house a-fire! You riz up such a rout. I thought you'd wake me wife! she sleeps, Down in a churchyard near!" Wid that, the dark dissective turned, An' bursted in a tear! I dhribbled out a few meself, Me brow, wid shame I bint, An' like a lamb, from slaughter, slow, Wid tottherin' steps I wint, But never, never from that day, Was any tidins' seen, Of me owld purse, me forty pound! Or of the Fairy Queen! Then, whin I thought of Norah's wrath, An' what a power she'd say, Me fine black hair, riz on me skull, An' grew all grizzle gray! O never more, to Dublin town, I'll come, to sell me pigs! I walk a melancholy man, Like one, that's got the jigs, An' in the town of Limerick, if You ever chance, to meet A haggard man, wid batthered hat, Come sthridin down the sthreet, An' if he stops, by fits and starts, An' stares at nothin' keen! Say "there goes Corney, look he's mad! He cotch a Fairy Queen." And if you chance in Sackville Sthreet, Or any other way, To meet, all beautifully dhrest, A lovely colleen gay; An' if she chances on the name, That you wor christened by, An' laughs, as if she knew ye, With a cute acquaintance eye, An' if she takes your arm, an' siz, That she's a Fairy Queen, Start back in horror, shout aloud, O woman am I green! Am I before a doctor's shop, Where coloured bottles be? Is there a green light, on my face, That you should spake to me? Go home, O Fairy Queen, go home! At once, an' holus bolus! Remimber, Corney Keegan's purse, An' think of the Dublin Polis decoration |
|
