Parody On When This Cruel War Is Over


H. DE MARSAN, Publisher, 54 Chatham Street, New-York.

Parody on when this cruel war is over.

Och, Biddy dear, do you remember
Whin we last did meet?
’Twas at Paddy Murphy’s party,
Down in Baxter street;
And there, all the boys did envy me,
And girls envy’d you—
Whin they saw my great big bounty
In Green-Backs, all new?

Next day, I shoulder’d my ould musket,
Braver thin Ould Mars;
And, with spirits light and airy,
Marched off to the wars;
But now me drame of glory’s over,
I’m home-sick, I fear;
I’d give this world for a substitute,

Och, Biddy darlin’, things are changing,
Since I left New-York;
There, I got good beef-steak plinty—
Now I get salt pork;
And the crackers, Biddy jewel,
For to tell the truth,
They are harder than a brick-bat,

Whin the cabbages are blooming,
Beautiful and strong:
Or whin whiskey-punch is brewin’—
Mournful is my song;
In me drames, I often see ye walking
With that black-guard Tim;
Oh! if I could only get a furlough,

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