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THE
Vocal Miscellany.
Paddy Carey's Fortune.
Twas at the town of nate Clogheen,
That Sergeant Snap met Paddy Carey;
A claner boy was never seen,
Brisk as a bee, light as a fairy:
His brawny shoulders, four feet square,
His cheeks like thumping red potatoes;
His legs would make a chairman stare!
And Pat was lov'd by all the ladies!
Old and young, grave or sad,
Deaf and dumb, dull or mad,
Waddling, twaddling, limping, squinting
Light, brisk, and airy,--
All the sweet faces at Limerick races,
From Mullinavat to Magherafelt,
At Paddy's beautiful name would melt!
The souls would cry, and look so shy,
Och! Cushlamachree, did you never see
