2o6 LIFE IN IRELAND 



'Twas Brian mix'd a steaming jug, 

 And Blake and Swan to drink agree ; 



Three blither hearts coop'd up so snug, 

 Ne'er less regretted to be free. 



It is the Bailiff'' s at the gate, 



But Bailiff's here are men of straw ; 



For Punch within the Sheriffs grates, 

 Makes Pat superior to the law. 



It is the Sun, whose golden beam 



Shines through the bars with brilliant glow ; 



Like whiskey punch he sheds a gleam 

 Of joy on all the sons of woe. 



Confin'd we are, three merry boys, 

 And many a night confin'd will be ; 



But dear to punch and social joys. 

 In fancy still we all are free. 



Loud applause followed this delectable song ; Robert 

 Bur?is is a favourite all over Ireland, and an Irish song 

 to one of his favourite tunes, was to our friends, 



' Music in the sinner's ears — 

 Health, delight, and peace.' 



The glorious memory of Robert Burns ; not of King 

 William, who, God rest his soul, has been pretty often 

 a troublesome customer to poor old Ireland : thanks 

 to the liberal sentiments of George the Fourth, he 

 is no more an idol, the Orange and Green live in 

 harmony together, and party feuds seem to be ex- 

 tinguished in the national race of who runs most and 

 fastest to do good for his native land. 



' Exil'd and scorn'd to shades of deepest hell. 

 In brazen bonds let barbarous discord dwell.' 



