A Lamintation.

Asthore machree ! och faix ye see,
Me heart is sore to-night;
I'm in a mess, for Herkuliss
Is goin' to lave our sight.
Sure Gladstone's Whigs—the dirty prigs—
Have ordhered him away,
An' I am sad—it's thrue be dad—
He's goin' to cross the say.

Bad luck attind, an' divil mind
The Liberals at Home,
To thrate us so; I'd like to know
Why Herkuliss should roam ?
Wid noble blood he filled his stud,
We miss his colours gay
Ipon the coorse—av coorse, av coorse,
He's ordhered o'er the say.

Whin Gussy wint, I was contint—
The Markis we could spare,
Bekays his breed—its thrue indeed—
Did not come from Kildare;
But Robinson, his spurs has won
On Curragh coorse—Hoorray!
In many a race he got a place,
Why does he cross the say ?

Be gog, I sigh to say "good-by,"
Och why wor these commands ?
I'd like to kuow why he should go
To Afric's burnin' sands ?
Where ugly Boors an' Blackamoors,
An' ould King Chat-away,
Av savage race disturb the paice,
Across the ragin' say.

The Kaffirs bould, faix so I'm tould
Are mighty fierce an' wild;
The Zooloos, too, make Irish stew
Av woman, man, an' child;
The Hottentots are dhrunken sots,
Bad whisky is their tay;
Och sure it's sthrange, he'll find the change
Across the ragin' say.

I don't know much about the Dutch,
They live on Sour Krout—
'Twixt me an' you that's jist burgoo,
Some call it stir-a-bout;

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Aitch city's mare, sure I declare,
Aits burgoo—masther's whey,
An' smokes an' chaws—faix thim's the laws
Across the ragin' say.

Och, Herkuliss, bedad we'll miss
Yer janeyill countininse,
Sure Gladstone should (it's choppin' wood
That's robb'd him av his sinse),
Have kept ye here for many a year,
To sthroll on Lambton Kay—
Me binidick-shun, take, avick,
Across the ragin' say.

Paddy Murphy