THE HUMOURS OF DONNYBROOK FAIR.

Oh! ’twas Dermot O’Nowlan McFigg, That could properly handle a twig, He went to the Fair, And kicked up a dust there, In dancing the Donnybrook Jig, With his twig, Oh! my blessing to Dermot McFigg! When he came to the midst of the Fair, He was all in a paugh for fresh air, For the Fair very soon Was as full as the moon, Such mobs upon mobs as were there, Oh! rare, So more luck to sweet Donnybrook Fair. The souls, they came crowding in fast, To dance while the leather would last, For the Thomas Street brogue Was there much in vogue, And oft with a brogue the joke passed, Quite fast, While the Cash and the Whisky did last! But Dermot, his mind on love bent, In search of his sweetheart he went; Peep’d in here and there, As he walked thro’ the Fair, And took a small taste in each tent, As he went, Och! on Whisky and Love he was bent. And who should he spy in a jig, With a Meal-man so tall and so big, But his own darling Kate So gay and so neat; Faith, her partner he hit him a dig, The pig, He beat the meal out of his wig! Then Dermot, with conquest elate, Drew a stool near his beautiful Kate; “Arrah! Katty,” says he, “My own Cushlamachree, Sure the world for Beauty you beat, Complete, So we’ll just take a dance while we wait!” The Piper, to keep him in tune, Struck up a gay lilt very soon, Until an arch wag Cut a hole in his bag, And at once put an end to the tune Too soon, Oh! the music flew up to the moon! To the Fiddler says Dermot McFigg, “If you’ll please to play ‘Sheela na gig,’ We’ll shake a loose toe While you humour the bow, To be sure you must warm the wig Of McFigg, While he’s dancing a neat Irish jig!” But says Katty, the darling, says she, “If you’ll only just listen to me, It’s myself that will show Billy can’t be your foe, Tho’ he fought for his Cousin, that’s me,” Says she, “For sure Billy’s related to me! “For my own cousin-german, Ann Wild, Stood for Biddy Mulrooney’s first child, And Biddy’s step-son, Sure he married Bess Dunn, Who was gossip to Jenny, as mild A child As ever at mother’s breast smiled. “And maybe you don’t know Jane Brown, Who served goat’s whey in sweet Dundrum town, ’Twas her uncle’s half-brother That married my mother, And bought me this new yellow gown, To go down, When the marriage was held in Miltown!” “By the Powers, then,” says Dermot, “’tis plain, Like a son of that rapscallion Cain, My best friend I’ve kilt, Tho’ no blood it is spilt, And the devil a harm did I mean, That’s plain, But by me he’ll be ne’er kilt again!” Then the Meal-man forgave him the blow, That laid him a-sprawling so low, And being quite gay, Asked them both to the play, But Katty, being bashful, said “No,” “No!” “No!” Yet he treated them all to the show! Charles O’Flaherty (1794–1828).