THE SPRIG OF SHILALE AND SHAMROCK
SO GREEN.
O Love is the faul of a neat Iriſhman,
He loves all the lovely, loves all that he can,
With his Sprig of Shilale and Shamrock ſo green.
His heart in good humour, 'tis honeſt and ſound,
No malice or hatred is there to be found,
He courts and he marries, he drinks and he fights,
'Tis love all for love for in that he delights,
With his Sprig of Shilale and Shamrock ſo green.
Who has e'er had the luck to ſee Denny-brock fair,
An Iriſhman all in his glory is there,
With his Shrig &c
With clothes ſpic and ſpán new without e're a ſpec,
A neat Barcelona tied round his neat neck,
He goes to a tent and he ſpends half a Crown,
He meets with his friend and for love knocks him down
With his Shrig, &c.
At evening returning as homeward he goes,
His heart ſoft with whiſky his head ſoft with blows,
From a Sprig, &c.
