The Plaidie. "Then how shall I get you, my jewel? "If your father and mother's so cruel, "Oh, never say die, dear," says Mary; 729 Samuel Lover [1797-1868] KITTY OF COLERAINE As beautiful Kitty one morning was tripping, With a pitcher of milk, from the fair of Coleraine, "Oh! what shall I do now-'twas looking at you, now; I sat down beside her, and gently did chide her, She vowed for such pleasure she'd break it again, 'Twas hay-making season-I can't tell the reason- For very soon after poor Kitty's disaster THE PLAIDIE UPON ane stormy Sunday, Coming adoon the lane, Were a score of bonnie lassies— And the sweetest I maintain, That I took un'neath my plaidie, Unknown She said the daisies blushed I winna stay under your plaidie, But, on an after Sunday, When cloud there was not ane, (We chanced to meet in the lane) Why dinna ye wear your plaidie? Wha kens but it may rain?" KITTY NEIL Charles Sibley [?] "Ан, sweet Kitty Neil, rise up from that wheel, Half the parish is there, and the dance is beginning. The sun is gone down, but the full harvest-moon Shines sweetly and cool on the dew-whitened valley, While all the air rings with the soft, loving things Each little bird sings in the green shaded alley." With a blush and a smile, Kitty rose up the while, Her eye in the glass, as she bound her hair, glancing; 'Tis hard to refuse when a young lover sues, So she couldn't but choose to go off to the dancing. And now on the green the glad groups are seen, Each gay-hearted lad with the lass of his choosing; And Pat, without fail, leads out sweet Kitty Neil,— Somehow, when he asked, she ne'er thought of refusing. Now, Felix Magee puts his pipes to his knee, And with flourish so free sets each couple in motion; With a cheer and a bound, the lads patter the ground, The maids move around just like swans on the ocean: "The Dule's i' This Bonnet o' Mine" 731 Cheeks bright as the rose-feet light as the doe's, Now coyly retiring, now boldly advancing Search the world all around, from the sky to the ground, No such sight can be found as an Irish lass dancing! Sweet Kate! who could view your bright eyes of deep blue, Beaming humidly through their dark lashes so mildly, Your fair-turned arm, heaving breast, rounded form, Nor feel his heart warm, and his pulses throb wildly? Young Pat feels his heart, as he gazes, depart, Subdued by the smart of such painful yet sweet love; The sight leaves his eye, as he cries with a sigh, "Dance light, for my heart it lies under your feet, love !" John Francis Waller [1810-1894] "THE DULE'S I' THIS BONNET O' MINE" THE dule's i' this bonnet o' mine; My ribbins'll never be reet; When he took my two honds into his, An' aw durstn't look up in his face, But th' tale wur at th' end o' my tung,- Though it isn't a thing one should own,- Neaw, Mally, aw've towd tho my mind; As ever stepped eawt into th' sun; Go, jump at thy chance, an' get wed, An' mak th' best o' th' job when it's done!" Eh, dear, but it's time to be gwon,— Aw shouldn't like Jamie to wait; Aw connut for shame be too soon, An' aw wouldn't for th' world be too late; Aw'm a' ov a tremble to th' heel, Dost think 'at my bonnet'll do?'Be off, lass,-thae looks very weel; He wants noan o' th' bonnet, thae foo!" Edwin Waugh (1817-1890] THE OULD PLAID SHAWL Not far from old Kinvara, in the merry month of May, When birds were singing cheerily, there came across my way, As if from out the sky above an angel chanced to fall, A little Irish cailin in an ould plaid shawl. She tripped along right joyously, a basket on her arm; charm: Her brown hair rippled o'er her brow, but greatest charm of all Was her modest blue eyes beaming 'neath her ould plaid shawl. I courteously saluted her "God save you, miss," says I; 'God save you kindly, sir," said she, and shyly passed me by; Twickenham Ferry 733 Off went my heart along with her, a captive in her thrall, Imprisoned in the corner of her ould plaid shawl. Enchanted with her beauty rare, I gazed in pure delight, I've heard of highway robbers that with pistols and with knives, Make trembling travelers yield them up their money or their lives, But think of me that handed out my heart and head and all To a simple little cailin in an ould plaid shawl. Oh! graceful the mantillas that the signorinas wear, Oh! some men sigh for riches, and some men live for fame, And some on history's pages hope to win a glorious name: My aims are not ambitious, and my wishes are but smallYou might wrap them all together in an ould plaid shawl. I'll seek her all through Galway, and I'll seek her all through I'll search for tale or tidings of my traveler everywhere, Francis A. Fahy [1854 TWICKENHAM FERRY "AHOY! and O-ho! and it's who's for the ferry?" |