Scoil: Cornamon (uimhir rolla 13926)

Ar an leathanach seo

1. A Potheen Ballad

   

   Roinn Roinn Postáil

   A Potheen Ballad

   Of all the navvygations that ever left the shore
   I tell this mortal nation it's potheen I adore.
   I love the tendher crature all in her punchy dress,
   An' when she's mother-naked I love her none the less
   If she had but a night-dress of shugar on her skin
   I'm not the boy what would refuse to take the swate one in
   Well, I mind the lively night her mother, Sall, lay in.
   Often did I press the babe between my nose an' chin
   An' if she was as ould, my boy, as Methoosalem's first hat
   I'd love her as the crane's loved by that sleekit baste, the cat
   If mighty Dutheronomy, Pittollomy an' Pan,
   Along with bould Vaynus, with Lu-sy-an, the ass
   Also Neb-you-codnayzer, so mighty at the grass --
   We're all with Martin Luther, with Gladstone an' with Lowe
   I'd box them left and right afore I'd let my charmer go
   It's true she has been thricky, as Irish maids do be,
   An' I must own that sometimes she's played a prank on me
   She rowled me in the soft mud one night she got me down
   When I was just meandrin' about a mile from town.
   She gave my eyes a paintin' and gave my nose a swell,
   Another Winther's evening when huggin' her too well.
   But all these lovin' capers I aisily forgive;
   And if she knocks my branes out I'll love her while I live
   I'd face the French an' Prooshans an' the Permissive Bill

   (leanann ar an chéad leathanach eile)

   

   Tras-scríofa ag duine dár meitheal tras-scríbhneoirí deonacha.

   Stair Athraigh

   Teanga

   Béarla

   Bailitheoir

   John Kenny

   Inscne

   Fireann