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The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 2

Me Cousin the Dane

Me Cousin the Dane.

Lambton Kay, Wellin'ton

Och blur-an-ounthers, Misther Editor, sure we've had the divil's own fun up here on Widnesday week last, whin Misther Barton unboosomed himself to the ilicthors o' Willinton. Faix he tould thim all about his ancesthore, how he was "the son of an Orangeman, and cousin to a Dane." Be me sowl it warm'd the cockels o' me heart to hear George give an account av his relations. He's not ashamed av his humble origin, like some av our mushroom aristocrats who pritind to have sprung from anshint histhry, and more luck to him for ownin' that his father followed the honest though humble occupation of a fruit dailer. Av course it was no news to me at all, for I knew the ould man well. He kept an orange stall in Stoney Batther, Dublin, and he used to sind little Georgy round the Tey-athers ivery night wid "apples, oranges, nuts, an' limonade." Bad luck to the betther oranges were to be had in Dublin, an' I'm tould that, the ould man used to import them himself from Barcyloney. But be the hokey it's news to me to hear that George's cousin is a Dane, Sure I thought Brian Boru dhrove all the Danes into the say at the Battle av Clontarf. But I must have been mistaken, for George's cousin is one. Be-gorra that must be the rayson he wouldn't Dane to apologise to the judges. Och it's a quare world, so it is, an' the more we grow the ouldher we larn. Afther the meetin' George axed me to throw off a pome in honor o' the occasion, so wid the aid o' me Pig- asses I wove the following nate thribute to

Me Cousin the Dane.

Begorra I'm grateful,
I ne'er was decaiteful,
Ye've done me an honour, I'm proud to confess.
I'm thankful to you, boys!
The green an' the blue, boys,
Have banded together to give me redhress.

page 25

Yer own little marthyr
Will fight for the charther
Of justice an' freedom again and again!
I've sprung from a race, boys,
That ne'er knew disgrace, boys,
Be jabers, I'm jist like me cousin the Daue.

Begorra I'm paceful,
Though thrated disgraceful,
But still from me ground, boys, I never will flinch
Until I am able
To turn the table,
And up to the bar I have summoned the binch!
Me tale av oppression
Will take up the Session
Until me kar-ackther is clinsed from the stain
Of incarceration,
An' just compensation
Is done to the cloth o' me cousin the Dane.

It wasn't gintale, boys,
To sind me to jail, boys,
For everyone knows I am curcheous an' kind;
An' sure I'm as mild, boys,
As some little child, boys,
But now, faix, I'll tell thim a bit o' me mind!
Mesilf wouldn't bother,
Me feelins' I'd smother,
But those who have rared me so dacent an' clane
Must have satisfaction,
An' so I'll take action
To wipe out the wound to me cousin the Dane.

This Prindergast Daniel,
Tuk me for a spaniel,
An' thought me a poor little limb o' the law.
But sthrong in me cause, boys,
I'll lay down the laws, boys,
Like Samson I'll show thim the stringth o' me jaw.
Whin mimbers assimble,
I'll make me foes thrimble,
I swear be the bones o' me forefathers slain
Wid Bill at Boyne Wather,
Besides at the slaughter
Of Donnybrook Fair, wid me cousin the Dane.

Those lagil molesthers
Of all me ancesthors,
Have blighted me grand Jinny-logical three.
Though not a Milesian
I'm still a Pat-rican,
For ould ancient blood, boys, is flowin' through me;
Confound thim an' blow thim,
Och, why did I know thim?
Or why did I mix wid the spalpeens so mane?
Sich varmints, mavrone boys,
Sure wouldn't be known, boys,
Before the hall-doore o' me cousin the Dane.

Paddy Murphy,