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(The Beggar’s Address to His Bag)
GOOD neighbors, dear, be cautious, | |
| And covet no man’s pounds or pence. | |
| Ambition’s greedy maw shun, | |
| And tread the path of innocence! | |
| Dread crooked ways and cheating, | 5 |
| And be not like those hounds of Hell, | |
| Like prowling wolves awaiting, | |
| Which once upon my footsteps fell. | |
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| An allalu mo wauleen, | |
| My little bag I treasured it; | 10 |
| ’Twas stuffed from string to sauleen, | |
| A thousand times I measured it! | |
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| Should you ever reach Dungarvan, | |
| That wretched hole of dole and sin, | |
| Be on your sharpest guard, man, | 15 |
| Or the eyes out of your head they’ll pin. | |
| Since I left sweet Tipperary, | |
| They eased me of my cherished load, | |
| And left me light and airy, | |
| A poor dark man upon the road! | 20 |
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| An allalu mo wauleen! | |
| No hole, no stitch, no rent in it, | |
| ’Twas stuffed from string to sauleen, | |
| My half-year’s rent was pent in it. | |
| |
| A gay gold ring unbroken, | 25 |
| A token to a fair young maid, | |
| Which told of love unspoken, | |
| To one whose hopes were long delayed, | |
| A pair of woolen hoseen, | |
| Close knitted, without rub or seam, | 30 |
| And a pound of weed well-chosen, | |
| Such as smokers taste in dream! | |
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| An allalu mo wauleen, | |
| Such a store I had in it; | |
| ’Twas stuffed from string to sauleen, | 35 |
| And nothing mean or bad in it! | |
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| Full oft in cosy corner | |
| We’d sit beside a winter fire, | |
| Nor envied prince or lord, or | |
| To kingly rank did we aspire. | 40 |
| But twice they overhauled us, | |
| The dark police of aspect dire, | |
| Because they feared, Mo Chairdeas, | |
| You held the dreaded Fenian fire! | |
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| An allalu mo wauleen, | 45 |
| My bag and me they sundered us, | |
| ’Twas stuffed from string to sauleen, | |
| My bag of bags they sundered us! | |
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| Yourself and I, mo stóreen, | |
| At every hour of night and day, | 50 |
| Through road and lane and bohreen | |
| Without complaint we made our way, | |
| Till one sore day a carman | |
| In pity took us from the road, | |
| And faced us towards Dungarvan | 55 |
| Where mortal sin hath firm abode. | |
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| An allalu mo wauleen, | |
| Without a hole or rent in it, | |
| ’Twas stuffed from string to sauleen, | |
| My half-year’s rent was pent in it! | 60 |
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| My curses attend Dungarvan, | |
| Her boats, her borough, and her fish, | |
| May every woe that mars man | |
| Come dancing down upon her dish! | |
| For all the rogues behind you, | 65 |
| From Slaney’s bank to Shannon’s tide, | |
| Are but poor scholars, mind you, | |
| To the rogues you’d meet in Abbeyside! | |
| |
| An allalu mo wauleen, | |
| My little bag I treasured it, | 70 |
| ’Twas stuffed from string to sauleen, | |
| A thousand times I measured it! | |
