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                           PADDIE.

A New SONG, Sung at the Theatre in Dublin by Dermet Obrian.

ARRA Dermet, dear ſhoy, I will tell you fine news,
Lillebulero bullenala,
Paddie F----------r 's gone o'er in his boots, without ſhoes,
Lillebulero bullenala.
He rode ſo ſwift o'er,
Without e'er an oar,
In the ſhip that he mounted before they ſet ſail;
By my ſhoul he was witty
To march to the city
Of Eden, being after a very freſh gale.

But before he comes there, he is choſe candidate,
Lillebulero bullenala,
To be after ſpeaking of matters of ſtate,
Lillebulero bullenala.
In the Parliament-houſe
He has got the voice
Of all the fine ſhentlemen now in the town.
He'll ſurely look brave,
If he don't misbehave,
Before he's hoodwink'd with a Parliament Gown.

By ſhaint Patrick our countrymen's all got rare heads;
Lillebulero bulenala,
By the maſs they walk rong when they ly on their beds ;
Lillebulero bullenala.
They never want wit
When once they find it,
Either when ſleeping or waking agra,
For they always believe ye,
Altho' they ne'er ſee ye,
But fills up your wants with a tantarara.

By I—s he'll ſhine like a fine blazing ſtar ;
Lillebulero bullenala :
Tho' your eyes be cloſe ſhut you will ſee him from far ;
Lillebulero bullenala.
He'll ne'er be o'ertaken
When ſleeping or waking,
For he always ſpeaks fine when his lips are cloſe ſhut;
At cribbage he'll parley,
And never cry barley ;
When wearied with that, then he falls on to putt.

By the Virgin ſo bleſſed, I'm after to ſwear,
Lillebulero bullenala,
He has a fine head tho' there's nothing in there;
Lillebulero bullenala.
He will ſwear the truth
And keep a cloſe mouth,
Let it be for the right. let it be for the wrong.
He'll always be gaz'd on,
As being an amaz'd one,
Altho' there be none for to fill up the throng.

Elected he'll be with a laudable voice;
Lillebulero bullenala ;
The cloſe lipped mob they will make a loud noiſe,
Lillebulero bullenala,
When ſhutting their eyes,
All in a ſurpriſe,
They'll ſee him walk out carried cloſe in a chair,
And with great hallooing,
And nothing a doing,
With hats on their heads and their wigs being bare,

Now, Monamondieul, dear Dermet agra,
Lillebulero bullenala,
Let us ſit down and dance with a fal de ra la,
Lillebulero bullenala
Since Paddie's rais'd high,
Beyond all the sky,
Let's drink his good health the long journey to ſteer;
Tho' he never be moving,
We'll always be loving,
And after wiſh well to our countrymen dear.

                                    [Price One Penny.]

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