Charles James Lever was born at Dublin in 1806. He was a graduate of Trinity College, Dublin, and afterwards became a physician, as well as a journalist, and the editor of the Dublin University Magazine. He was consul at Spezzia in 1858, and later at Trieste, where he died in 1872. His poems, when he did not try to be serious, are full of humor and rhythm. He wrote, among other novels, “Harry Lorrequer,” “Charles O’Malley,” and “Tom Burke of Ours.”

Did you hear of the Widow Malone,
Ohone!
Who lived in the town of Athlone,
Alone?
Oh! she melted the hearts
Of the swains in them parts—
So lovely the Widow Malone,
Ohone!
So lovely the Widow Malone.

Of lovers she had a full score
Or more;
And fortunes they all had galore,
In store;
From the minister down
To the clerk of the crown,
All were courting the Widow Malone,
Ohone!
All were courting the Widow Malone.

But so modest was Mistress Malone,
’Twas known
That no one could see her alone,
Ohone!
Let them ogle and sigh,
They could ne’er catch her eye—
So bashful the Widow Malone,
Ohone!
So bashful the Widow Malone.

Till one Misther O’Brien from Clare—
How quare!
It’s little for blushing they care
Down there—
Put his arm round her waist,
Gave ten kisses at laste—
“Oh,” says he, “you’re my Molly Malone—
My own!”
“Oh,” says he, “you’re my Molly Malone!”

And the widow they all thought so shy,
My eye!
Ne’er thought of a simper or sigh—
For why?
But, “Lucius,” says she,
“Since you’ve now made so free,
You may marry your Mary Malone,
Ohone!
You may marry your Mary Malone.”

There’s a moral contained in my song,
Not wrong,
And, one comfort, it’s not very long,
But strong;
If for widows you die
Learn to kiss, not to sigh,
For they’re all like sweet Mistress Malone!
Ohone!
Oh! they’re all like sweet Mistress Malone!