The Irish Picket

I 'm shtaudinb' in ihe mud, Biddy, With not i epalpeen neafi And sílice, spaieblcss as the grave, ís nll the Bound I hear. Megoonisatthesbowlder arn.8 , lWetted to the bono; And whin I'ra aflluT l'Pn out, 1 find royself alone. Tbis soutliern climate's quare, Biddy; Aquareand busteiy tbing, Wid winter absint all ibe yeur. And mavye w 'r . , ,, I'd dtbrnw but Uien Il'suwful wanum Utre. The only raoon I see, Biddy, ís one sbmall star, astbore, And that's fornintb tbe very eloud It was behind aloro ; '.. The wntchfires tríame ulong the hlll Tlint's Bwellin' tothe Soutli, And tfhin the sentry passes ihem, I 3ee hifi OOgly luoutb. Ifs dcad fer ehlapc I am Bildy, And dramein shwate J U be, If them culd rob.-ls over ihere Would only lave me free; But whin I wne against a slitump ADO ethrive to get repose, _ A musket bal) he'a comin ehlraight To hit me spacious nose. Ifs ye rd like to st?e, Biddy, A thparkiu' k wia ilK And Uien, Avoureen, lic S say, "TcaBhla- Pat- 'moehn ! "Och. Biddy d.-irlint," tben sayal; Bayon, "Get oul of thüi!' h Savs'I '"Ma arruin matos your waiat; Öaysjou, f'Bs dayoeot, ftt!" Ard how's the pigs and duclis, Biddy? It's thom 1 ihinkof, bhure, Tliat lookcd 0 innud-nt ond shwate XJpon tliu parlor flore; I'm iluireye'ï ftisy with th pig Tbat's fat ns Le can be, And Inde hini wid the bist, bccauso l'm told be Ioo3u Hk i;e. When I come home agajn.Biády, A sargent Iried and tlirü, It's just a dac'ent honse I'll build And riiit U chap to you. We 11 havo a parkt, edroeln, hall, A duck pond nately done. Withkiiclitn, pig pen prát y patcli. And garrel - all in one. Ent. murtherl there' o baste, Biddy, TLut't crapin' round a tree. And woll I kiicw tbe ei ature 's there To hare a shot ai me. JS'ow, Mither HeKl, say yer proy'rs, And huwM ytrdirtby .aw; Here ggecl - be abure, Bidüy dear, Hc's hit me en the jaw!