Page 278 - The model orator, or, Young folks' speaker : containing the choicest recitations and readings from the best authors for schools, public entertainments, social gatherings, Sunday schools, etc. : including recitals in prose and verse ...

THE IRISH WOMAN’S LAMENT.

^ TT N sure I was to u I cl to come till yer Honor,
/ j To ace would ye write a few lines to me Pat?
He’s gone for a soldier is Mister O ’Conner,
Wid a stripe on his arm, and a band on his hat.

" And what’ll ye tell him ? Sure it must be aisy
For the likes of yer Honor to spake wid a pen.
Tell hirn I'm well, and mavourneen Daisy
(The baby, yer Honor) is better again.

“ For when he went off] so sick was the tlarlint,
She never hilt up her blue eyes till hiss face.
And when Pd be cryin’ he'd look at me wild-like,
And ax, ‘ Would I wish for the counthiy's disgrace?1

" So he left her in danger, an’ me sorely gravin’,
And followed the flag wrid an Irishman’s joy ;
And it's often I drame of the big drums a batin',
And a bullet gone straight to the heart of me boy.

"T ell him to send us a bit of his money
For the rint, and the doctors bill due in a wake.
But sure— there’s a tear on your eyelashes, honey,
In faith, I'd no right wid such fradom to speak,

" I ’m over much triflin’. I'll not give ye trubble—
I’ll find some one willin'— oh! what can it be?
W hat’s that in the newspaper yer foldin' up double?
Yer Honor, don't hide it, but rade it to me.

u Dead! Patrick O ’Conner! oh, God! it’s some itlu .
Shot dead! Sure a week’s scarce gone by;
An’ the kiss on the cheek o1 his sorrowing niither,
it hasn't had time yet, yer Honor, to dry.