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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 31 |
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Buskins for a fairy prince,
Brogues for his son, Pay me well, pay me well, When the job's done." The rogue was mine beyond a doubt, I stared at him; he stared at me 1 " Servant, sir ! " " Humph ! " said he, And pulled a snuff-box out.
He took a long pinch, looked better pleased,
The queer little Leprecaun ; Offered the box with a whimsical grace, — Pouf! he flung the dust in my face, — And, while I sneezed, Was gone !
THE LOVER AND BIRDS
W
ITHIN a budding grove, In April's ear sang every bird his best, But not a song to pleasure my unrest, Or'touch the tears unwept of bitter love ; Some spake, methought, with pity, some as if in jest. To every word, , Of every bird, I listened or replied as it behove.
Screamed Chaffinch, "Sweet, sweet, sweet! Pretty lovey, come and meet me here ! " " Chaffinch," quoth I, "be dumb awhile, in fear
Thy darling prove no better than a cheat And never come, or fly, when wintry days appear." Yet from a twig, With voice so big, The little fowl his utterance did repeat. |
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