32 LIFE IN IRELAND 



himself naked to serve another, and after having done 

 so to wish him with the black gentleman ; it is the w^ay 

 of an Irishman, he always conveys his blessing in the 

 form of a curse, and the harder it is the more he 

 loves you. These digressions serve to shew that there 

 was nothing singular in Sir Shawn O'Dogherty's 

 mode of saluting his friend. I repeat it, an Irishman 

 has ways and means of his own which -it is my 

 business to paint from the life, and having done that, 

 he will still be like 'the peace of God' — past all 

 understanding. 



CAPTAIN GRAMMACHREE'S DITTY 

 Tune — ' O Ireland ! dear country.' 



Along side of a hedge by the bridge of Drumcondra, 



Poor Murdoch O'Monoghan sat down to beg ; 

 He brought from the wars, in reward of his bravery, 



A crack in his crown and the loss of a leg. 

 \Vith shillelagh in hand and shillelagh on foot, 



From London to Dublin he had travelled o'er. 

 Contented he was, aye, and happy to boot. 



For he still made a shift to get whiskey galore. 



The heart of old Murdoch was soft as a cabbage. 



Like a Galway potatoe, his skin was as tough ; 

 No longer he slumber'd at ease with the baggage, 



But took up his quarters each night in the sheugh. 

 ' Arrah ! spare an old soldier the price of a penny ! ' 



The devil a cross did he ever ask more, 

 And the day never past but he pick'd up so many, 



That at night he made shift to get whiskey galore. 



I 've an eye, he would say, on the field of Vittoria, 

 Looking out for the foe, if they come back to Spain ;; 



My leg is at Waterloo rotting in glory, 

 'Twill never conduct me to glory again ; 



