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The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 2

The Governor's Reception

page 53

The Governor's Reception.

Lambton Kay, Wellin'ton,

Be the piper that played afore Moses, I was as nigh as a toucher gettin' into an attack o' delarium thramins over the Governor's arrival. Av coorse, as I tould ye afore, I hadn't seen Sir Herculis since we wor at school together at Murty Donohoe's, jist beyant the crass-roads, op-pos-it the Mullingar road. Well, 'pon me conshinse, I thought his Ixcillincee would shake the two hands o' me on the Kay whin I met him landin' from the Wolverine. "Tare-an-ountbers, can I believe me two eyes?" ses the Governor, whin he first caught sight o' me "Blur-an-agers, sure that can't be yerself, Paddy aroon," ses he. "Begorra, it's all that's lift o' me, yer Ixcillincee," ses I. "'Pon me conshinse I shouldn't have known ye, Paddy, av it wasn't for the blue wart on the lift hand corner o' yer nose," "D'ye tell me so?" ses I, "an be-dad I can make the same rimark wid rispict to yer Ixcillincee," ses I, "for be-jabers, av it wasn't for the piculiar cut av yer Ixcillincee's right hand whisker I'd have passed ye in the sthreet widout knowin' ye," ses I. Sir Herculis then inthroduced me to Lady Robinson an' his shuite, an' in return I inthroduced him to me collaiges—Mac, Whitmore, an' Fisher. Johnnie had the impidence to inthroduce himself. After our mutchual congratulashuns, Sir Herculis tuk me aside, an' ses he, "Paddy, allanah, yersilf and yer collaiges can come up afther tay an' we'll have a quiet dhrop o' the craythur together." Well, in response to his Ixcillincee's invitation, mesilf an' Mac, an' the Colonel, an' Fisher, wint up to the Vice-Raygil residince in the evenin', an' spint a most injoyable night. Afther a few rounds o' punch had recaived ample justice, we gave a song aitch. As mesilf was the only one that sang in plain English, I vintchure to give ye the other ditties in the gibberish in which they wor sung, verbatim et litheratim. This is Mac's song:—

Air: "Bonnie Jean."
O a' the airts the win' can blaw,
I dearly loe the South,
For there the silv'ry Doric braw
Fa's frae ilk Scottish mouth;
There's nae a settler in the lan',
Frae Taieri tae the sea,
But boasts o' the auld Free-kirk ban'
O' auld Iden-tit-ee.

Blaw, blaw, ye Opposition men,
Ye're unco fu' o' gas;
The guid auld Scottish folks, ye ken,
Wha dearly lo'ed a glass,
Could hae a crack and mak' the laws
Sae that the'rsel's were free;
The Cooncil foucht the guid auld cause
O' auld Iden-tit-ee.

Whin Mac had finished, loud calls wor made on Misther Fisher for a song, an' afther a few preliminary coughs, me Cantherbury collaige cleared his throat and gate the followin':—

page 54

The Farmer

I'm a plain country farmer, that follows the plough,
I know more of turmits and carrots
Than questions political, really I trow
Those members just jabber like parrots,
Who gather in Wellington year after year,
To waste time, I m not an alarmer,
But really such nonsense to me doth appear
Soft twaddle unfit for a farmer.

Come sit round the table,
My boys, while you're able,
Let no man appear as a stranger;
And show me the ass,
That refuses his glass,
And I'll order him hay in the manger!

Misther Fisher bad scarcely finished the last line av his song whin the Kurnil jumped to his feet an' bellowed forth the followin':—

The Kurnil's Song,

Air: "Drops o' Brandy."
I'm ready for a row,
For my sword is rusty now,
And I want to carve the Maoris neat and handy O.
My courage is all there,
I can make the rebels stare,
At skirmishing and fighting I'm a dandy O.

When filled with port or bock,
I defy the battle's shock,
My spirit is as strong as three-star brandy O;
I'll conquer any field,
And make the foeman yield,
At skirmishing and fighting I'm a dandy O.

Whin the Kurnil had concluded, his Ixcillencee got upon his vice-raygil legs, an' rindhered the followin' in a fine racy voice;—

Tally Ho!

Fill up your bumpers, boys, drink to the old land,
Memories of dear olden times come and go;
Though we have homes on the soil of this gold land,
Still in our ears rings the wild "Tally ho;
Tally ho! Tally ho! Tally ho! Tally ho!"
The fox is abroad, and the ditches we'll dare,
The ponds and the ledges, the dykes and the hedges,
Are cleared by the sportsmen of gallant Kildare,

Fill up your bumpers, the Scot and the Briton,
Can drink with the Paddies, our glasses o'erflow;
The day when I first put the bridle and bit on,
I'll toast to the music of wild "Tally ho!
Tally ho! Tally ho! Tally ho! Tally ho!"
The fox is abroad, and the ditches we'll dare,
The ponds and the ledges, the dykes and the hedges,
Are cleared by the sportsmen of gallant Kildare,

page 55

After his Ixcillincee's condisiushun, the laste I could do was to rhindher a poetic thrifle, so I jist sthruck up the followin' verses:—

The Races.

Air: "Limerick Races."
Come fill the flowin' bowl,
Wid whiskey punch or brandy,
For railly, 'pon me sowl,
I'll take whatever's handy;
Sir Herculis, me boy,
Here's to yer horses' paces,
Me heart is filled wid joy,
Sure we'll have honest races.

Be-gorra, faix, av coorse
I used to back the stable,
That was me last resoorce,
But now, mavrone, I'm able
To lay upon the prad
That runs Vice-raygil chaces,
Sir Herculis, be-dad,
Goes in for honest races.

The sells an' swindles, too,
The scratchings an' the capers,
That humbugg'd me and you,
Are inded now, be japers;
The mimbers o' the ring,
Must put on honest faces,
The Turf has got a king,
Who prides in honest races.

Be-dad I'm nearly ashamed to tell ye that we stayed up till three o'clock that night, so we did, an' the nixt mornin' Molly had to sind out to the Impire for a "John Collins" for me. I'll thry an' come down wid his Ixcillincee on the 18th, so ye can jist minshin it to Mick, in case I should want a room.

Paddy Murphy.