Lyra Frivola Part 8

Begone! to swell the Jingo train and ape the tricks of Tories: Let Rosebery share with Chamberlain his cheap Imperial glories: Let Primrose Leaguers' base applause to Duty's promptings blind you-- Desert an outraged nation's cause, and take this curse behind you;--

Expect your doom, ye Liberals! though now you scorn and flout us, Full soon within St Stephen's walls you'll fare but ill without us; No more to us for succour come, for when you most would have it, It will not be forthcoming from yours truly, MICHAEL DAVITT!

THE TRUE REMEDY (1898)

The angry Gael to sooth you'll fail--the wrongs he lays your door at It won't redress to pay his cess and nearly all his poor rate: 'Tis useless quite to calm his spite by show'ring blessings o'er him, While still he lacks the O's and Macs his fathers had before him!

But now, to close the tale of woes which long had tried our patience, Great MacAleese cements a peace between the warring nations; No more the swords of Saxon hordes are rankling in our vitals, For Erin's sh.o.r.e enjoys once more her ancient styles and t.i.tles.

O long ago had things been so ere feud had rent our party, And Parnell those for leader chose while these preferred McCarthy, I doubt not but the Cause had cut a fat superior figure, If, better led, we'd had for head O'Parnell and MacBiggar!

'Twas hard to spot the patriot when parties mingled freely, And Labouchere at times would share the politics of Healy; A symbol new and plain to view from such mistakes will free him-- By Mac and O you'll always know a patriot when you see him:

This s.h.i.+bboleth shall bind till death, without respect of faction, In mutual love, all persons of Hibernian extraction: I see them stand, a gallant band, agreed each question vexed on, O'Saunderson in heart at one with Dillon and Macs.e.xton!

And when we've found Home Rule All Round the only panacea, The Welsh perhaps will all be Aps--the Scotchmen Macs as we are-- While Englishmen will sorrow then, in shame and degradation, To think they've not the t.i.tles got which really make a Nation.

UNITED IRELAND

"Here's your fery good health, And tamn ta Whuskey Duty!"

Though Hibernians for long in dissension have dwelt (As a dog that resides with a cat), There's a bond that the Saxon allies to the Celt-- They are perfectly solid on that!

And if ever their union is marred by a flaw, It is due to the craven who shrinks From proclaiming aloud the immutable law, That he ought not to pay for his drinks.

They have differed at times on the theme of Repeal (As I gather from platform and press), And the language they used in their patriot zeal Was intended to wound and distress: But at last they are joined by a brotherly love, And his anger the patriot sinks, For his eloquence now is directed to prove That he ought not to pay for his drinks.

There were times when the payment that landlords demand Was a source of continual woe, When the tenant preferred to adhere to his land, And the agent preferred him to go: When their claims to adjust and the balance to strike Was a riddle to baffle the Sphinx,-- But they're reconciled now, by resolving alike That they never will pay for their drinks.

There's an influence soft, which has calmed and a.s.suaged The contentions of Orange and Green: It has silenced the wars that were formerly waged In Committee Room Number Fifteen: For in Cork and Belfast they're united at last By the strongest and surest of links, And together they go for the Sa.s.senach foe Who has asked them to pay for their drinks!

JUSTICE FOR PRIVATE MULVANEY

There's a gentleman called Doolan with an eloquence would charm ye When he talks of shooting landlords and of peaceful themes like that: But I'd like to undesave him on the subject of the Army-- Sure the things he says about us are the idlest kind of chat!

We are all (says he) seditious, and the most of us is Fenians: (And it's true I am a Fenian when I find meself at home:) But he says we're that devoted to our patriot opinions That we would not face the foeman when the marching orders come!

Is it that way, Misther Doolan, that you'd see your country righted?

Troth, to many in the Service 'twill be information new That they'd lave the flag they followed and betray the faith they plighted To be comrades and companions of a gentleman like you!

Tisn't mutiny and treason will make Ireland e'er a nation: No, we never yet were traitors, though we're rebels now and then!

For your country's name to tarnish and disgrace her reputation-- Faith! it may be "patriotic," but it isn't fit for men.

Would we shame those valiant Irishmen, the lads of Meath and Mallow, Them that fought with Moore and Beresford through many a hard campaign, Men that dared the Saxon follow, with a roaring "Faugh-a-ballagh,"

And that shed their blood like water on the stricken fields of Spain?

Would we shame our bold companions and the land, the land that bore us, And the gallant boys that led us, and the rattling days we've seen, When we drove the foe before us with the "Shan Van Voght" in chorus, And we stormed his mountain stronghold to "The Wearing of the Green?"

Though we've cursed the name of England: though in faith and blood we're aliens: Though we're bred to hate the Union as an Irishman should do-- Yet we're shoulder still to shoulder in the Englishman's battalions, And the soldier's pride in Erin is the pledge that he'll be true.

No! if e'er the day is coming of an Irish host's uniting, When they march to meet the Saxon, with the green above the red, 'Mid the ranks of England's foemen 'tisn't we that will be fighting-- --And it isn't Mr Doolan will be marching at their head!