Politics & government

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                      A New Song called

                Garibaldi's
           DOWNFALL ! !

                       In Rome.

Air.—Wirrastrue poor Billy !
Come listen to my mournful song,
O wirrastrue, O wirrastrue,
Good people I wont keep you long,
My name is Garibaldi.
Tho' I was a general of great fame,
And conquered the Lombardian plain,
But alas ! I'm now bound fast in chains,
I'm wretched Garibaldi !

The Austrian force I did them whack,
O wirrastrue, O wirrastrue,
When I had Napoleon at my hack,
So much for Garibaldi.
Surrounded by the rich and gay,
I crushed all with r tyrant's sway,
And Ferdinand I drove away,
I'm cursed Garibaldi ;

But now my body is bound down,
O wirrastrue, O wirrastrue.
I'm bound in uhains like any clown,
O wirrastrue Garibaldi.
The people's wrongs I did redress,
Which now has left me in a mess,
I'm nearly murdered you may guess,
Your own dear Garibaldi.

I swore I'd go to imperial Rome,
O winrastrue, O wirrastrue,
And ransack every Catacomb,
I'm the tyrant Garibaldi.
I said I'd shoot the Pius Pope,
And make him from his chair elope,
But I have nearly got the Rope—
The price of Garibaldi.

After all the battles I nave fought,
O wirrastrue, O wirrastrue.
Locked in a dungeon or a vault,
I'm unlucky Garibaldi.
John Bull was my dear father good,
I thought to me he would have stood,
But he has left me in the mud,
His own dear Garibaldi.

My wounds are sore—I'm nearly mad,
O wirrastrue, O wirrastrue,
I'm lying here all on a wad !
The warrior Garibaldi.
An army I had once I say,
But from me they have run away,
The Frenchmen them at once would slay,
As well as Garibaldi.

The great Dictator I was once,
O Wirrastrue O wirrastrue.
But now by Jove, I'm in a trance,
I'm wounded Garibaldi.
My friends assistance now I call,
To release me with their powder and ball,
Don"t stop but come now one and all,
And relieve poor Garibaldi.
The French were twenty thousand strong
O Wirrastrue O wirrastrue.
I did not think they were there so long ;
They surprised poor Garibaldi.
I wish I had let the Pope alone.
And did not touch his sacred throne
Which for over will stand in imperial Rome
Against every Garibaldi.

John F. Nugent, & co., Printers 35, New
                Row West, Dublin.