POETRY.
IRISH SONG.
(Air: ' What ahall I do with this silly old man f WHEN Carroll axed Kate for her heart and a hand
That controwled just a hundred good acres of land, Her lovely brown eyes Went wide wid surprise, And her lips they shot scorn at his saucy demand ; " Young Carroll Maginn, Pat the beard to your chin And the change in your purse, if a wife you would win."
Then Carroll made Kate his most illigant bow, And off to the Diggins lampooned from the plough; Till, the beard finely grown, And the pockets full-blown, Says he, " Maybe Kate might be kind to me now ! " So home my lad came, Colonel Carty by name, To try a fresh fling at his cruel ould flame.
But when Colonel Carty in splendour steps in, For all his grand airs and great beard to his chin, " Och! lave me alone ! "
Cried Kate, with a groan, " For my heart's in the grave wid poor Carroll Maginn."
"Hush sobbin' this minute, 'Tis Carroll that's in it !
I've caged you at last, thin, my wild little linnet."
THE AUTHOR OF "FATHER O'FLYNN."
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