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‹‹‹ prev (356) Page 332Page 332Eustace Comines, the Irish evidence, his farewell to England

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JACOBITE SONGS. 333
I'll swear dem in and out,
We'll have a merry bout,
And make a rabble rout."
hone ! hone !
We came to Westminister ;
hone ! hone !
Den he call'd me Maishter.
hone ! hone !
I swore by faite and trote,
And by me Bible-oate,
(What we'd agreed on bote.)
hone ! hone !
Den I was put in pay
hone ! hone !
Had five, six groat a-day ;
hone ! hone !
Which did fine cloads afford,
Instead of spade a sword : >
I knew not meshelf, good Lord !
hone ! hone !
But soon my maishter-rogue,
hone ! hone !
Was, in spite of his brogue,
O hone ! hone !
For the sauce of his tongue,
To prison dragg'd along,
'Cause he did what was wrong.
hone ! hone !
Then was prepar'd a drench,
hone ! hone !
Gates himself to retrench.
hone ! hone !
The meaner swearers den
To tremble did begin,
As I've a shoul widin.
hone ! hone !
By this book, I did faint,
hone ! hone !
Till St Patrick, me fwite saint,
hone ! hone !

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