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To attain this end he, with rare delicacy and tact, persuaded the old gentleman to adopt him as a son. As James Roche Crouch he lived in Florida, and nobly did what he could to make life a little easier for his " father."
Another very favourite song1 composed by-Crouch, of a more frolicsome turn, was " Katty, Avourneen," written by the late Desmond Ryan:
" 'Twas a cowld winter night, and the tempest was snarhn',
The snow, like a sheet, cover'd cabin and stye, When Barney flew over the hills to his darhn',
And tapp'd at the window where Katty did he. ' Arrah, jewel,' says he, ' are you slaipin' or wakin' ?
It's a bitther cowld night, and my coat it is thin ; The stonn it is brewin', and the frost it is bakm',
Oh, Katty, avourneen, you must let me in.' " ' Ah, then, Barney,' says Kate, and she spoke through the window,
' How could you be takin5 us out of our beds ? To come at this time, it's a shame and a sin, too,
It's whiskey, not love, has got into your head. If your heart it was true, of my fame you'd be tender,
Consider the time, and there's nobody m. What has a poor girl but her name to defend her ?
No, Barney, avourneen, I won't let you in.' " 'A cushla,' says he, 'it's my heart is a fountain,
That weeps for the wrong I might lay at your door; Your name is more white than the snow on the mountain, ,
And Barney would die to preserve it as pure. I'll go to my home, tho' the winter winds face me,
I'll whistle them off, f o r I ' m happy within ; And the words of my Katty will comfort and bless me :
" N o , Barney, avourneen, I won't let you in." ' "
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