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342 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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Come, lads, be gay—trip, trip away, While those who sit keep boozing.
Where's Thady Oge ? up, Dan, you rogue,
Why stand you snilly-shally ? There's Mora here, and Una's here,
And yonder's sporting Sally. Now frisk it round—aye, there's the sound
Our sires were fond of hearing; The harp rings clear—hear, gossip, hear !
O sure such notes are cheering !
Your health, my friend ! till life shall end
May no bad chance betide us; Oh, may we still, our grief to kill,
Have drink like this beside us ! A fig for care ! but who's that there
That's of a quarrel thinking? — Put out the clown or knock him down —
We're here for fun and drinking.
Tie up his tongue-—am I not sprung
From chiefs that all must honor — The princely Gael, the great O'Neil,
O'Kelly and O'Connor, O'Brien the strong, Maguire, whose song
Has won the praise of nations; O'Moore the tough, and big Branduff,
These are my blood relations ! |
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