Special Jurymen of England! who a… And proclaim a British Jury worth… Gayly compliment each other at the… Which was tried at Guildford 'siz… Unto that august tribunal comes a…

Returning from the cruel fight How pale and faint appears my knig… He sees me anxious at his side; ‘Why seek, my love, your wounds to… Or deem your English girl afraid

O TIM, did you hear of thim Saxo… And read what the peepers report? They’re goan to recal the Liftina… And shut up the Castle and Coort! Our desolate counthry of Oireland…

On Brady’s tower there grows a fl… It is the loveliest flower that bl… At Castle Brady there lives a lad… (And how I love her no one knows)… Her name is Nora, and the goddess…

Beside the old hall-fire—upon my n… Of happy fairy days—what tales wer… I thought the world was once—all p… And my heart would beat to hear—th… And many a quiet night,—in slumber…

The cold gray hills they bind me a… The darksome valleys lie sleeping… But the winds as they pass o’er al… Bring me never a sound of woe! Oh! for all I have suffered and s…

Beneath the gold acacia buds My gentle Nora sits and broods, Far, far away in Boston woods My gentle Nora! I see the tear-drop in her e’e,

The castle towers of Bareacres ar… Where the cliffs of bonny Diddles… I stood upon the donjon keep and v… I saw the lands of Bareacres for… I stood upon the donjon keep—it is…

Air—"il y avait un petit navire.” There were three sailors of Brist… Who took a boat and went to sea. But first with beef and captain’s… And pickled pork they loaded she.

O SIGNOR BRODERIP, you are… You wexis us little horgin-boys wh… How dare you talk of Justice, and… To pussicute us horgin-boys, you s… Though you set in Vestminster sur…

No more, thou lithe and long-winge… No more across the sultry sands sh… Blunt idle talons, idle beak, with… Shatter against thy cage the wing… Long, sitting by their watchfires,…

For the sole edification Of this decent congregation, Goodly people, by your grant I will sing a holy chant— I will sing a holy chant.

Your Fanny was never false-hearte… And this she protests and she vows… From the triste moment when we par… On the staircase of Devonshire Ho… I blushed when you asked me to mar…

I paced upon my beat With steady step and slow, All huppandownd of Ranelagh Stree… Ran’lagh St. Pimlico. While marching huppandownd

You’ve all heard of Larry O’Tool… Of the beautiful town of Drumgool… He had but one eye, To ogle ye by— Oh, murther, but that was a jew’l!