O'Toole & McFinnigan on the War


O’ Toole & McFinnigan On The War.

Two Irishmen out of employ,
And out at the elbows as aiz’ly;
Adrift in a grocery store,
Were smoking and taking it lazily.
The one was a broth of a boy,
Whose cheek-bones turned out and turned in again,
His name it was Paddy O’Toole.
The other was Misther McFinnigan.

“I think of enlistin’,” says Pat,
“Because, do you see what o’clock it is?
There’s nothin’ adoin’ at all.
But drinking at Mrs. O’Docharty’s;
It’s not until after the war
That business time swill begin again,
And fighting’s the duty of all”—
“Be jabbers! You’re right,” says McFinnigan,

“Bad luck to the rebels, I say,
For kiekin’ up all of this bobbery.
They call themselves gintlemin, too,
While practisin’ murder and robbery;
Now if it’s gintale for to stale,
And take all your creditors in again,
I’m glad I’m no gintlemen born”—
“I agree with you there.” Says McFinnigan.

“Boost mind what old England’s about,
A sending her throops into Canaday,
And all her ould ships on the coast
Are ripe for some treachery any day:
Now if she should mix in the war—
Be jabbers! it makes me head spin again,
Ould Ireland would have such a chance”—
“You’re right, sir,” says Misther McFinnigan.

“Och, murther! me blood’s in a blaze,
To think of bould Corcoran leading us
Right into the camp of the bastes
Whose leeches so long have been bleeding us!
The Stars and the Stripes here at home.
To Canada walls we would pin again,
And would’nt we raise them in Cork?”
“Don’t spake of the thing,” says McFinnigan.

“Hurroo! For the Union, me boys.
And divil take all who would bother it:
Secession’s a nagur so black
The divil himself ought to father it!
Hurroo for the bould 69th,
That’s prisintly bound to go in again:
‘Tis Corcoran will lead ’em, d’ye mind,”
“And I will go with them,” says Finnigan.

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