Page:Braes of Balquither.pdf/4

 ’Tis love, all for love, for in that he delights, With his sprig of Shilela and Shamrock so green.

Who has e’er had the luck to see Denny- fair, An Irishman all in his glory is there, With his Sprig, &c. With clothes spick and span new, without e’er a speck, A neat Barcelona tied round his neat neck; He goes to a tent and he spends half a-crown He meets with his friend, and for love knock him down, With his Sprig, &c.

At evening returning, as homeward he goes, His heart soft with whisky, his head soft with blows, From a Sprig, &c. He meets with his Shelah, who blushing a Cries get ye gone Pat, yet consents all the To the priest they soon go, and nine after that A fine baby cries, how d’ye do father Pat; With your Sprig, &c.

Bless the country, say I, that gave Patrick birth, Bless the land of the oak, and its neighbouring earth,