Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Charms of melody, or, Siren medley

243
THE CHARMS OF MELODY.
Patrick O'Neal.
Y
JL E fons of Hibernia, who, fnug on dry land,
Round your fmoaking turf firesand whifkey in hand
Drink Caid-mella-faltaruh, and ne'er think of the
boys
Who are fighting your battles thro' tempeft and
iioife, *
Attend to my ditty— 'tis true, I declare.
Such fwimming and finking would make you all
■ ftare,
rarftorms, fquibsand crackers h«ve fing'd at my tail
■Since the prefs-gang laid hold on poor Patrick
O'Neal.
"Twas the firft day of April, I fet off, like a fool,
From Kilkenny to Dublin to fee Laurence Tool,
My mother's third coufin,who oft had wrote down.
And begg'di'd come fee how he flourifti'din town ;
But I fcarce had fet foot in this terrible place,
Mire I met with a fharper who fwore to iny face;
He beckon'd a prefs-gang, who came without fail,
And neck and heels dragg'd off poor PatrickO'Neal
Then they fcamper'daway,as they faid,with a prize,
(For they thought me a failor, run off in difguife)
But a terrible blunder they made with their ftrife,
For I'd ne'er feen a fliip or the fea in my life :
Away to a tender they told me to fleer,
But of tendernefs, devil a morfel was there ;
! I roar'd and I curs'd, tho* it did not avail ;
They down in the cellar cramm'd Pavrick O'Neal.
We fet fail from Dublin thf: very next day,
1 was half ftarv'd nnd fei-fick the reft of the way ;
Not a mile-ftone I law, nor a houfe, nor a bed,
■"Twas all water and fky till we came to Spithead.
-Then they call'd up all hands — hands and feet foon
obcy'd,
O, I wiih'd myfelf home cutting turf v.-ith a fpade;
For the firft thing I faw made my courage to fail,
'Twas a great floating caftle for Patrick O'Neal.
This huge wooden W'Orld roU'd aboilt on the tide,
And a large row of teeth ftuck taft in each fide ;
They put out a boat, and they to!d me to keep
Faft hold with my trotters, for fear I fliould Hip ;
I let go my hands to ftick faft by my toes,
The fhip gave a roll and away my head goes,
1 plung'd in the water, and dafii'd like a whale,
'Till with boat-hooks they fifli'd up poor Patrick
O'Neal.
'Midft ftiouts, jells and laughter, they hoiiled me in
To this hugfe wooden world full of riot and din ;
Such ropes and fuch pullies,fuch fights met my eye,
■And fo large were the iliects that they hung up to
dry :
I thought itNoah's ark, fiuii'd full of queer guefts.
Hogs, pedlars, geefe, failors, and all other bealis;
Some drank bladders of gin, fome drank, pitchers of
ale.
And they fung, curs'd and laugh'd at poor Patrick
O'Neal.
' All confounded with bother I began ic look-queer.
When the boatfwain's flirill pipe made all hands to
appear,
Fp the ropes like to monkies, they running did
fwear.
Then like gibbets and -rope dancers fwung in the air:
They clapt fticks in a capftern, as I afterwards found,
The'chap fit and fif 'd as they turned him round.
The iliip run her anchor, fpread her wings and fet
fail
With a freight oflive lumber, andPatrick'O'Neal.
Then to go down below I expreft a great -wifli,
Where they live under water likefo many fifh;
I was put in a mefs with fome more of the crew,
And it being banyan-day they gave me burgue :
For a bed they'd a fack, hung as high as my chin,
They call'd it a hammock, and bade me get in,
I laid hold, took a leap, but my foot being frail,
•It fwang me clean over! — poor Patrick O'Neal.
V/ith fome help I got in, wherej rocked all night,
The day broke my reft with a terrible fright ;
" Up hammocks, down chefts" was cry'd from all
parts,
" There'e a French fhip in fight!" — up and down
went my heart !
To a gun I was ftation'd, they cry'd with an oath.
To pull off his breeches, unmuzzle his mouth,
They took oif the apron' .that cover'd his tail,
And the leading-firings gave to poorPatvick O'Neal.
Our thick window (butters we pull'd up with fpeed,
And we run out our bull -dogs of true Englifh breed;
Tiie captain cry'd " England and Ireland, my boys,"
When he mention'd Old Ireland, my heart made a
noife !
Our fweet little guns did the Frenchmen defy.
We c-lapt fire on his back and bid him let fly;
Kis voice made me leap, tho' I'd hold of his tail,
The beafi then flew back and threw Patrick O'Neal
Then we kther'd away, by my fhoul, hob and nob,
'Till (he Frenchmen gave up Vv^hat they thought a
bad job ;
Then to tie him behind, a long cord they did bring,
And we led him along like a pig in a firing!
So home to' Old England we led the French bov;
the fight of the land made me fea-fick with joy;
1 hey made a new peacew hen the war v:as too ftale.
And fet all hands adrift, and, poor Patrick O'Neal.
Now fafe on dry land a caroufing I'll fteer,
Nor cat-head, nor cat-bloc'j:, nor boatfwain's-cat
fear ;
While there's fhot in the locker I'll fing. and be
bound
That Saturday night (hall laft all the year round:
Butfiiouid peace grow too fleepy, and v/ar come
again.
By the piper of Leinfter I'll venture again ;
Pjturning I'll bring you, good folks, a frefh tale.
That you'll cry till you laugh at poor Patrii.k
O'Neal.
Hymn to Eve.
T TOW chearful along the gay mead,
-*--•- The daiiy and cov.-flip appear,
The flocks as they carelefsiy teed,
Rejoice in the fpring of the year.
The myrtles that (hade ihegay bow'rs.
The herbage that fprings from the fod.
Trees, plants, cooling fruits, and fweet fiow'rs
All raife to the praife o;f my God.
Shall man, the great mafter of all.
The only infenfible prove ?
Forbid it, fair gratitude's call,
Forbid it, devotion and love!
Thee, Lord, who fuch wonders couidft raife,
And ftill can deftroy with a nod.
My lips (hall iiicefl'antly praife.
My foul Ihali be wrapt in my God.