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Two wives, both dead ! three daughters, all alive ! 



(The youngest was christened Kathleen, by the way), 

 Sir Brian thought it time for him to arrive 



At a fixed resolution, come what may, 

 Not to be tempted any more to wive, 



Three bantlings being enough, alack-a-day ! 

 The dear old man might have dispensed with any ' 

 / have but one as Burns said one loo many ! 



And he was poor, which made it harder still 



For him to educate them as he ought ; 

 He had at least, if not the means, the will, 



And sundry books and samplers for them bought, 

 And hired a governess for them, until 



He got them very tolerably taught : 

 But Kathleen prov'd the aptest of the three, 

 The tutoress labour'd ineffectually 



Through learning's paths the elder twain to lead. 



She taught them both, however, how to dance 

 And sing, and even prevailed on them to read 



Sometimes the last new novel or romance. 

 Of other literature they took no heed, 



Except " The latest Fashions, just from France ;" 

 For each esteemed it an offence raost shocking 

 To wear the slightest tinge of a blue -stocking. 



But Kathleen loved the page of history, 



And the wild, lays which Erin's minstrels sung, 



Ere sorrow mingled with her melody, 

 Or the high harp of Tara was unstrung ! 



She studied, too, with care, her geography, 

 And read the grammar of the Latin tongue ; 



Also a book on cookery, and a " Tale 



Of Faerie," and a work on brewing ale. 



She even embroidered, in her hours of leisure, 

 The story of " The Children in the Wood ;" 



And, though its excellence we may not measure 

 With Linwood's magic needle-work, 'twas good 



A fact which I record here with much pleasure ; 

 I think she also worked " Red Riding-Hood." 



She read an epic poem then, and soon 



Afterwards wrote " A Sonnet" To the Moon ! 



She was indeed a clever little maid, 



But yet small praise from those she loved could find. 

 Her sisters hated her. They were afraid 



That the rare talents of her opening mind 

 Might one day throw their charms into the shade ; 



And so they snubbed her, and were even inclined 

 Sometimes to beat her. They had grown so bold 

 That even by birch they could not be controll'd! 



In fact no means could be contrived to make 

 Or one or t'other as you'll shortly see 



The archness of their ways at all forsake, 

 So obstinately bent were they to be 



Just what they ought not; if I don't mistake, 

 'Twas when the eldest was but nineteen, she 



Told her papa she " did not care a fig 



About him, and that he was an old prig." 



