3
He meets with his Shilela, who blushing a smile.
Cries, get you gone, Pat, yet consents all the while.
To the priest they soon go, and nine months after that,
A fine babby cries, how d’ye do, father Pat,
With your Sprig, &c.
Bless the country, says I, that gave Patrick his birth,
Bless the land of the oak and its neighbouring earth,
Where grows the Shilela, &c.
May the sons of the Thames, the Tweed, and the Shannon,
Drub the foes who dare plant in our confines a cannon,
United and happy at loyalty’s shrine,
May the Rose and the Thistle long flourish and twine
Round the Sprig of Shilela and Shamrock so green.
BONNY JESSIE.
NOW Edinbro’ I’m gaun to leave,
And thee, my bonny dear, Jessie,
A while a ’tween us now maun roar,
A tumbling swelling sea lassie.
But when frae thee, my bonny fair,
For dearest love I ha’e, Jessie,
I'll think on thee when far awa,
