IRISH SONGS. WHACK FOR O'SHAUGHNASHANE. P&?tODY o? "Hail to the Chief." l:[?x; to our chief now he's wet through with whis- key*. Long llfe to the lady come from the salt seas.* Strike up blind harpers.* hey to be frisky! For what is so gay as a bag full of lieu*. Crest of O'Shaughnashane! Th,,t's a potatoe, plain, l.ong may your root every Irishman know! Pats long have stuck to it Long hid good luck to it; Whack for O'Shaughn0shane !--tooley whagg J?o! Ours is an eseulent, lusty and ]ast/ng? - No turnip, or other weak babe of ? i?round; Waxy or mealy, it hinders from fasting Half Erin's inhabitants all the year round. Wants the soil, where 'tis flung, Ho?s, cows, or horses' dung, 19till does the crest of O'Sha,u,glmazhane grow; Shout for it Uulster men. "Till the bogs quake again! Whack for O'Shaughna?hane!--tooloy whagg ho! Drink, Paddies, drink; to the lady so shining! While ttow'rots shall open and bog-trottm's dig, 19o, long may the sweet rose of beauty be twining Around the potstoe of proud Blarney-gig*. While the plant vegetates, Whilo wh/?y
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