86 LIFE IN IRELAND 



' By G — d ! (says George,) I 'm just in time for dinner ; 



Support me to the land, brave Captain Skinner.' 



Skinner's left-handed arm now led the van, 



From hence he is the King's right-handed man ; 



Oh ! how his leaden eye with lustre glisten'd 



When Geoj'ge the Fourth the King his packet christen'd ! 



Forth from the Lightning steps the mighty GEORGE, 



Just like God Vulcan blazing from his forge ; 



His gouty toe first touch'd an Irish stone. 



His wholesome leg supported flesh and bone ; 



The King's blood, bone, and marrow all now boil 



And fret and fume upon an Irish soil : 



On every side, God bless his jowl ! they ring, 



The King of Ireland now in Ireland King ! 



God bless his gout ! ' Bad luck ! ' a soldier cries, 



' Don't you be after spreading English lies ; 



By Jasus ! I will send to right about 



All who declare the King has grease or gout ! ' 



He said, and instantly his bagnet enter'd 



The part where Hudibras says honor 's center'd. 



The caitiff fled ; ' 'Tis thus,' says Pat, ' I '11 dish ye, 



' I 'm stirgeon-major to the Down militia, 



Pat Castlebrag 's my Colonel — never mind, 



Make room before there, for the King 's behind ! ' 



'Tis mighty large ; he comes hop, step, and jump. 



And on the flags his feet play thump for thump, 



Off comes the hairy cap, around he bends, 



' The King's wig 's bare ; la ! how he condescends ! ' 



Exclaim the ladies as he treads the Pier, 



And seems to say — ' My Irish souls, I 'm here. ' 



Like musket bullets in a pancake stuck. 



His eyes look dark, prepar'd to ' run amuck.' 



First noble Kingston caught his royal gaze. 



Whose glories perish'd in a Wexford blaze. 



When for his life he pledged the rebel crew, 



And broke his word as every Lord can do. 



' What, Kingston ! Kingston ! aye, my boy ! you here? 



Black-whisker'd fellow, dear from year to year, 



