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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS g |
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" Gude save us a'," says the wife, \vi' a smile,
" But yours is a thrivin' trade." — " Ay, ay, I've wander'd mony a mile,
And plenty have I made.''
The man sat on by the dull fire flame,
When the pedlar went to rest; Close to his ear the Devil came,
And slipp'd intil his breast.
He look'd at his wife by the dim firelight,
And she was as bad as he — "Could we no' murder thon man the night?" —
"Ay could we, ready," quo' she.
He took the pickaxe without a word,
Whence it stood, ahint the door; As he pass'd in, the sleeper stirr'd,
That never waken'd more. |
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" He's dead ! " says the auld man, coming back —
" What o' the corp, my dear ? " " We'll bury him snug in his ain bit pack, Never ye mind for the loss of the sack,
I've ta'en out a' the gear." |
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" The pack's owre short by twa gude span,
What'll we do!" quo' he — " Ou, you're a doited, unthoughtfu' man,
We'll cut him off at the knee." |
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