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The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 2

Mrs. O'Brien

Mrs. O'Brien.

Lambton Kay, Wellin'ton,

Be the hokey we've managed to patch up the split in the Kabinet agin, an' me collaiges have prevailed on me to withdraw me resignation. I've consinted to give them jist one thrial more, an' if they don't behave themsilves like dacint people be-gorra I'll lave thim to disthruction an' go over to the Markiss, so I will. 'Pon me conshinse I was delighted to read in yer last an account o' the noble conduct av Missus O'Brien, o the Lime-rick Boordin' House, Milburne, who knocked down a dirty pickpocket page 51 three times, and thin gave him in charge to the polis. The full report av the battle, which appeared in the Milburne Advocate, inspired me to woo the chaste nine, wid the followin' result:—

Hurroo! for ould Erin, the land o' me daddy,
The gim o' the ocean, the star o' the west,
The dear island home av aitch thrue-hearted Paddy,
The land o' sweet colleens, the fairest and best;
The Throjans an' Romans an' Grecians may glory
In aitch haythin hayro an' goddess divine,
Be-gorra, I pay little heed to their story,
Me hoyroine new is one Missus O'Brien.

Great hayroines fought in both Urope an' Aishey,
In Aigipt, in Sparta, in Atheus, an' Throy,
An' iveryone knows that ould Queen Boadaishy,
Was what ye may call the rale broth av a boy;
But Limerick, bould Limerick on banks o' the Shannon,
For brave-hearted women, stands first in the line,
They guarded their city' gainst Dutch Billy's cannon,
Sure they wor ancesthors to Missus O'Brien.

More power to yer elbow, success to yer mussel,
Good luck to yer stews, to yer chops an' yer stakes,
For sure yer the darlint to wrastle an' tussel,
Och faix ye can brews quite as well as ye bakes;
The honor o' Lim' rick is safe in yer keepin';
An' whin I go over, I'll know where to dine,
Me thrunks an' portmanteys, me aiten' an' sleepin',
I'll lave in yer care darlint Missus O'Brien.

Me muse is so full wid the grand inspiration,
The baitin' ye gave to the light-fingered rouge
Has filled me wid joy, faix I'm proud av our nation,—
The weight o' yer fist an' the stringth of yer brogue
Have kept up the credit av ould Innisfail, boys!
Ye may not be polished, but yet ye can shine;
The spalpeen got gruel widout auy male, boys
Ye gave him the Kithogue, sweet Missus O'Brien.

Och, long may ye live, may yer boordin'-house flourish,
May paice an' prosperity reign in yer home,
And long may yer vittals continue to nourish
Yer boordhers, ye'll long be the thaime o' me pome;—
Yer namesake, proud Lord Inchyquin, might not own ye,
But though yer an ixile far over the brine,
His Lordship would stand at yer back had he known ye,
And claim ye as cousin, brave Missus O'Brien.

Paddy Murphy.