21 July 2013

Reed-bird Shooting - A Poem from 1879

Three men and a bull-dog ugly,
Two guns, and a terrier lame;
They'd better stand out in the mind these,
And set themselves up for game!
But no! I see, by the cocking
Of that red-haired Paddy's eye,
He's been 'reeding' to much for you, Sir,
Any such game to try!
'Whist, Jamey, me boy! kape dark there,
And bould the big bull-dog in:
There's a bloody big cloud of rade-birds
That nade a peperin'!'
'Chip-bang!' speaks the single-barrel;
'Flip-booong!' roars the old 'Queen-Anne;'
There's a Paddy stretched out in the mud-hole,
A kicked-over, knocked down man!
The big bull-dog's eyes stick out,
And the terrier's barks begin;
The Paddy digs out of the deep mud,
And then the 'discoursin' comes in:
'Oh Jamey, ye precious young blag-guard,
I know ye're the divil's son,
How many fingers' load, thin,
Did ye put in this damned old gun?'
'How many fingers? Be jabers!
I nivir put in a one!
D'ye think I'd be afther ramming
Me fingers into the gun?'
'Well, give me the powdher, Jamey!'
'The powdher! as sure I'm born,
I put it all in yer musket,
As I had ne'er a powdher-horn!'
November 29, 1879. Rahway [N.J.] Weekly Advocate and Times 38(48): 1. Transcribed as printed, including word spelling.