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UNDAUNTED LONDONDERRY. 247 |
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But we find 'tis all a story,
Fortune is pleased on us to frown: Instead of our riches, we stink in our breeches,
By Chreest and St. Patrick, we're all run down, so
They call a thing a three-legged mare,
Where they will fit each neck with a nooze, Then with our beads to say our last prayer,
After all this to die in our shoes. Thence we pack to purgatory; 85
For us let all the Jesuits pray; Farewell, Father Peters, here's some of your creatures
Would have you to follow the self-same way. |
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UNDAUNTED LONDONDERRY.
The story of the siege of Londonderry, " the most memorable in the annals of the British isles," is eloquently told in the twelfth chapter of Macaulay's History of England. It lasted one hundred and five days, from the middle of April to the first of August (1689). During that time the garrison had been reduced from about seven thousand men to about three thousand. Famine and pestilence slew more than the fire of the enemy. In the last month of the siege, there was scarcely any thing left to eat in the city but salted hides and tallow. The price of a dog's paw was five shillings and sixpence, and rats that had |
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