Young Patsy Molloy was as purty a boy
As was ever of widdy the pride and the joy;
And as for his ass, sorra crather could pass
That beautiful baste, but for one fault, alas!
When she felt she'd a load, you might kick and might goad,
But divil a fut would she move on the road,
Till you'd tickle her bones wid a handful of stones--
And _that_ hint she'd take, the desateful ould toad!
* * * * *
The Widdy, half dead with could, looked in the shed,
But sorra the peat could she find; so she said,
"Sure I'm clane out of few'l, and the could is that crew'l;
Take the baste for a load of Wallsends, Pat, my jew'l!"
[Illustration: Pat with donkey cart talking to the Widdy]
* * * * *
Pat went, filled his cart, and for home made a start,
But the baste wid her tantrums well-nigh bruk his heart
For never a stip would she move, the ould rip!
But she stood like a pig wid her legs wide apart.
"Ochone! wirra-'sthrue! Arrah, what will I do?"
Cried Pat, as he sat in a terrible stew.
[Illustration: Pat with loaded donkey cart, donkey being stubborn]
Then he called on the Saints, and he called on the d----
(I won't say the word--sure it wouldn't be civil!)
When, as good luck would be, by strowls Father Shee,
And he says, "My son Patsy! my son Pat!" says he,
'"Sich language is really shocking to me.
Sure, what is the matther?" "The matther!" says Pat
"Now, saving your prisence, by this and by that!
The murthering brute will not budge--not a fut."
Says the Priest, "Why not bate her?" Oh wasn't he cute!
"Is it batin'?" says Pat. "By the Saint in my hat!
'Tisn't batin' she cares for--bad luck to the slut!
Ochone and ochone! if I'd only a stone----!"
"A stone!" says the Priest--ah thin, wasn't he artful?--
"A stone! Why, ye omadhaun, look at yer cartfull!"
[Illustration: Pat with loaded donkey cart talking to Priest]
"Thrue for you!" Pat sings out; "them's the jockeys'll do,"
And clutching two handsful with joyous "Hurroo,"
He let fly in haste at the back of his baste,
That not likin' the taste, started off as if chased
By the ould one himself, for a good rood or two.
But Pat knew the thrick, and whenever she'd kick,
Or stop in her canther, the coals would fall thick
On her ribs and her back, till the road was asthrew
Wid best Wallsends, and Patsy's poor baste black and blue!
* * * * *
[Illustration: Donkey galloping, cart now empty]
Ten minutes, and cute Father Shee you'd have seen,
Wid his shovel and crate, and his purty colleen.
And he says, "Colleen dhas, sure 'tis wicked to pass
The good things that's sent, though they're brought by an
ass.
[Illustration: Colleen with shovel and Priest]
D'ye see them black diamonds? It's elegant coal--
Shovel up every lump, if you vally your soul!"
* * * * *
As for Pat and the widdy--I will not be guessing
What _he_ got--but I'll go bail 't wasn't a blessing!
[Illustration: Pat with donkey cart talking to the Widdy]
* * * * *
[Illustration: INDUCTIVE.--_Officer._ "How's this, Murphy? The sergeant
complains that you called him names!"
_Private Murphy._ "Plaze, surr, I niver called him anny names at all.
All I said was, 'Sergeant,' says I, 'some of us ought to be in a
menagerie!!'"]
[Illustration: FROM ONE POINT OF VIEW.--Scene--_British Jury Room. All
agreed on their verdict except Irish juryman (who holds out)._ "Ah,
thin, iliv'n more obstinit' men I nivir met in all me loife!!"]
[Illustration: AN IRISH INTRO-DUC-TION.--_Village Dame (addressing a
brood of young ducks which she has just thrown into the pond for a
first swim)._ "Ther' now, you be landed!"]
[Illustration: OUR MILITARY MAN[OE]UVRES.--_Irish Drill-Sergeant
(to squad of militiamen)._ "Pr's'nt 'rrms!"--(_Astonishing
result._)--"Hiv'ns! what a 'prisint'! Jist stip out here now, an' look
at yersilves!!"]
[Illustration: IRISH ASSURANCE.--_The O'Mullygan (who has been assuring
his life)._ "Hah! Another word, gintlemen! Oi hear a good deal about
mercantile frauds and financial irrigularities, an' I've only this to
say: if moy ixicutors have any bother in getting this paid, 'faith
Oi'll ixterpate int-hirely the thin sitting board!--actuiry, sicretary,
and ivery man jack iv ye! Make your mimorandum o' that, an' good day
t'ye!!"]
[Illustration: AN IRISH "SEQUITUR."--_Traveller (they had already
walked a mile from the station)._ "Hi, I say, porter, do you call this
'no way at all?' I thought Donnybrook Lodge was near the terminus."
_Pat_. "Faix, I cannt say, sor, I was a follerin' o' you gintlemen!!"]
* * * * *
THE WIND TO PLEASE THE PIGS.--Sow-sow west.
* * * * *
THE ROOT OF IRISH EVIL.--It used to be said that the Irish people were
unwise on relying on the potato. Their reliance on 'taturs was foolish
enough, but still more foolish is their faith in agitators.
[Illustration: END OF THE VOLUME, blown from saxophone by Mr Punch,
observed by Toby]