KATTY MOONEY. I COURTED Katty Mooney, dear, A girl so neat and cosey; Her eyes they were so bright and clear, I got a stick to mind it; 'Twas a beauty too, but, like the rest, It carried its tail behind it. Och, hubbaboo, och phillaloo, Ochone, ochone, to grunt and groan, I don't know why that I went back For there they were giving smack for smack, He ran away, och hubbaboo! May the devil catch and bind him, Och, hubbaboo, &c. This belongs to a class of songs alluded to in the Preface, professing to be Irish on the strength of a pig being introduced into the dramatis persona. It is not racy of the soil: it was not written by an Irishman; the word spooney is sufficient proof of that. But, nevertheless, there is something comical in the song; and the idea of the pig sitting between the false pair, a sort of third party in the conspiracy, however absurd, is provocative of merriment. The music was composed by the late Mr. Blewitt-and a capital air it is. Mr. Blewitt was an Englishman, but having lived in Dublin some years, his quick ear caught up some of the peculiarities of the Irish lilt, which he has occasionally imitated with success. HAD I THE TUN WHICH BACCHUS USED. R. A. MILLIKEN, Had I the tun which Bacchus used, I'd sit on it all day; For, while a can it ne'er refused, I'd turn the cock from morn to eve, My friend should sit as well as I, For he who drinks-although he's dry- But since the tun which Bacchus used And let that churl, old Bacchus, sit, There is a happy antithetical point made in this song between the celestial beverage of the Pagan God and the humble tippler of earth, good fellowship and wit making whiskey more divine than the grape juice of the solitary Olympic toper. The tun carrying double, too, is a pleasant conceit, and gives one a notion of fellows determined to "go it." WIDOW MACHREE. From "Songs and Ballads," by SAMUEL LOVER. WIDOW MACHREE, it's no wonder you frown, Faith, it ruins your looks, that same dirty black gown, How altered your air, With that close cap you wear— 'Tis destroying your hair, Which should be flowing free; Be no longer a churl Of its black silken curl, Och hone! Widow Machree. Widow Machree, now the summer is come, Och hone! Widow Machree; When everything smiles, should a beauty look glum ? Och hone! Widow Machree. See the birds go in pairs, And the rabbits and hares, Why, even the bears Now in couples agree; And the mute little fish, Though they can't spake, they wish. Widow Machree, and when winter comes in, To be poking the fire all alone is a sin, Och hone! Widow Machree. Sure the shovel and tongs To each other belongs, And the kittle sings songs Yet alone with your cup Like a hermit you sup. Och hone! Widow Machree. And how do you know, with the comforts Ive towld, But you're keeping some poor fellow out in the cowld! Without thinking to see Some ghost or some sprite, That would wake you each night, Crying, "Och hone! Widow Machree ?" Then take my advice, darling Widow Machree, And with my advice, faith I wish you'd take me, You'd have me to desire Then to stir up the fire, And sure Hope is no liar In whispering to me That the ghosts would depart BUMPER, SQUIRE JONES. ARTHUR DAWSON, Baron of the Exchequer. "Respecting the origin of Carolan's fine air of 'Bumper, Squire Jones,' we have heard a different account from that given on O'Neill's authority. It was told us by our lamented friend, the late Dean of St. Patrick's, as the tradition preserved in his family, and was to the following effect :-Carolan, and Baron Dawson, the grand or great-grand uncle to the Dean, happened to be enjoying, together with others, the hospitalities of Squire Jones at Moneyglass, and slept in rooms adjacent to each other. The bard, being called upon by the company to compose a song or tune in honour of their host, undertook to comply with their request; and, on retiring to his apartment, took his harp with him, and under the inspiration of copious libations of his favourite liquor, not only produced the melody now known as 'Bumper, Squire Jones,' but also very indifferent English words to it. While the Bard was thus employed, however, the Judge was not idle. Being possessed of a fine musical ear, as well as of considerable poetical talents, he not only fixed the melody on his memory, but actually wrote the noble song now incorporated with it before he retired to rest. The result may be anticipated. At breakfast on the following morning, when Carolan sang and played his composition, Baron Dawson, to the astonishment of all present, and of the bard in particular, stoutly denied the claim of Carolan to the melody, charged him with audacious piracy, both musical and poetical, and to prove the fact, sang the melody to his own words amidst the joyous shouts of approbation of all his hearers-the enraged bard excepted, who vented his execrations in curses on the Judge both loud and deep."-Dublin University Magazine for January 1841. I have seen, in a "History of the Jongleurs and Troubadours" (I think by Miss Brooke) a tale very similar to the above. In Bunting's "General Collection of the Ancient Music of Ireland" (Clementi, London) it is stated that the song was only imitated from the original Irish of Carolan by Baron Dawson, which I think not improbable. Is it likely such a song could have been written over-night, particularly after such drinking bouts as they had in those days-and written, too, to a melody only just caught up through a partition? The translation-if translation it be-is evidently a free one, however; the allusion to "Salkeld and Ventris" is clearly a lawyer's. But, whether original or imitated, the song is full of spirit, and the metre ingeniously adapted to a capriciously sportive melody.. |