THE AMERICAN WAKE.[43]

’Twas down at the Doherty’s “wake,” (They were off to New York in the morning), So we thought we’d a night of it make, And gave all the countryside warning. The girls came drest in their best, The boys gathered too, every soul of them, And Mary along with the rest—— ’Tis she took the sway of the whole of them. We’d a fiddler, the pipes, and a flute—— The three were enough sure to bother you, But you danced to whichever might suit, And tried not to think of the other two. The frolic was soon at its height, The small drop went round never chary, The girls would dazzle your sight, But all I could think of was Mary. The first jig, faith, out she’d to go, The piper played “Haste to the Wedding,” And while I set to heel and toe, You’d think ’twas on eggs she was treading. So bright was her smile and her glance, So dainty the modest head bowed of her, ’Tis she was the Queen of the Dance, And wasn’t it I that was proud of her! At last I looked out for a chair, And off I led Mary in state to it; But think of us when we got there, The sorra the sign of a sate to it! Still, as there was no other free, We thought we’d put up for a start with it— Och, when she sat down on my knee For an emperor’s throne I’d not part with it. When Mary sat down on my lap A tremor ran through every bit of me, My heart ’gin my ribs gave a rap As if it was going to be quit of me. I tried just a few words to say To show the delight and the pride of me, But my tongue was as dry in a way As if I’d a bonfire inside of me. And there sat the cailin as mild As if nothing at all was gone wrong with me, And I just as wake as a child, To have her so cosy along with me. My arm around her I passed When I saw there was no one persaiving us— “Don’t you wish, dear,” says I, at long last, “The Dohertys always were laving us?” The words weren’t out of my mouth When the thieves of musicians stopped playing, And the boys ruz a laugh and a shout, When they listened to what I was saying. Poor Mary as swift as a hare Ran off ’mong the girls and hid herself, And, except that I fell through the chair, I fairly forget what I did myself. The Dohertys scarce in New York Were landed, I’m thinking, a week or more, When a wedding took place in West Cork, The like of it vainly you’d seek before. Some day if my way you should pass, Step in—I’ve a drop of the best of it; And while Mary is mixing a glass, I’ll try and I’ll tell you the rest of it. Francis A. Fahy (1854).