Chapter I: LAID out pounds, and pounds,

In entertainment rounds,
And worked a score of credit pretty thick,
For I heard she had a plumb,
So invited her to come,
To the altar at shortest notice quick,
When I asked her for my plumb,
She was all but deaf and dumb,
I found that I was married thro' a trick,
To have lifted off the shelf,
A maiden without pelf,
Was unbusiness-like, I felt it was a stick,
Of the candle, all I had was but the wick,
A moody retrospection, makes me sick!

He WAS a cabman grey I feck,
All weird and wry to see;
His face was ribbed like the turtle's neck,
His nose like the strawberrie.
If you think he was old, to you I say,
Your thought obscures the truth--
Despite the years that had passed away,
He was still in his second youth.

"Ha! ha!" quoth he, "how fair she looks,"
One morn, as he did see,
A maiden sweet with her school-books,
A ward in the Chancerie.
"How fair she looks!" quoth he, and put
A load in his old black clay,
And he didn't care if he hadn't a fare,
The whole of the live-long day.

That night he looketh into the glass,
With his nose like a strawberrie,
"I know they'll say I'm a bloomin' goose
But fate is fate you see."
And he looketh into the glass once more,
Where yet was another drain.
Quoth he, "I've wedded three before,"
"The fourth I'll wed again."

Next day he was out in the open street,
And standing upon the stand,
He heard the trip of her coming feet,
'Twas sweet as a German band.
And forth he went and accosted her,
He could not brook delay,
"Hey up, look here, little gurl," said he,
"I saw you yesterday."

"I saw you yesterday. My 'eart
Went out across your feet,
And from your beauty came a dart
That fixed me all complete;
And all last night I dreamed a dream,
To my bedside you came--
You'll marvel at these words of him
Who does not know your name.

"I saw you yesterday. You smile."
His eyes, like burning beads,
Took root in her inmost soul the while,
As deep as the ditch-grown weeds.
"You smile. Ha, ha! to smile and laugh
Is better than aye to frown
It's fitter to whiffle away the chaff
That covers a golden crown.

"It's better to whittle away the cheat
Of mankind if you can."
And he cracked his whip. "It's a fair deceit
And I am a curious man--
Yes I am a curious man, my badge
Is seventeen seventy-seven,
But wot is a badge? It's a very small thing
To the matches wot's made in Heaven!"

"How sweet he speaks!" the maiden thought
"He's a lord in a rough disguise,
As a cabman old he's coming to woo
And give me a grand surprise;
He seeks to hide himself in a mask,
With a nose like a strawberrie,
But I've read too many of three vol. novs.,
He couldn't disguise from me.

"The Lord of Burleigh while incog.
Did wed an humble bride,
And legend lore recounteth more
Of love like his beside.
I've heard the ballad of Huntingtower,
And some I forget by name,
And when he's got rid of his strawberrie nose
He'll maybe be one of the same!"

And she fondly looked on him, I ween,
Sweet as the hawthorn spray,
When all in bloom of white and green,
It decks the month of May.
"Oh, dearest Cabman," spoke she then,
"No brighter fate were mine
Than this: to be thine own laydee,
My life with thee to twine.

"But I am poor and lowly born,
And never a match for thee--
A girl a man like you would scorn,
A ward in the Chancerie,
With only a hundred thousand pounds,
It may be less or more;
But do not wreck a confiding heart,
It often was done before."

"Wo! ho!" quoth he, and in his sleeve
He grinned, "It's a big mistake.
The Chancerie is only a blind,
But, yet, I am wide awake.
If a hundred thousand pounds wor her's,
She wouldn't be makin' free;
I'd have to court her a little bit more,
Before she'd be courtin' me.

"I haven't the smallest doubt of this--
The truth you tell," he began;
"But I think that you misunderstand me miss,
I am not a marryin' man.
I only thought if you wanted a cab
That I wouldn't be high in my fare,"
And he shuffled the nose-bag round the jaw
Of his patient, hungry mare.

She walked away, nor bade good day,
While he thought of the Probate Court.
"She's a girl, I twig, could give me a dig
Of a barrister's wig for sport.

I have only escaped the courts of law,"
Quoth he, "by a single hair!"
As he finished the knot of his canvas bag
On the nose of his hungry mare.

MANY an intelligent reader will perceive that the following is a pathetic plaint founded on fact. A moral, conveyed in a polyglot sample of weak passages from many a knowing man's career.

In one noted instance, the writer while reciting the ballad, closely escaped the chance of assassination, at the hand of a member of the audience, that he fancied it was a versification of his own particular experience, made public, and brought so circumstantially home to him, that he felt the eyes of all were concentrated upon him as the hero of the ballad. Happily he did not carry a revolver, or it would most likely have exploded suddenly in the direction of the platform. But mutual explanations and further enquiry elicited the information that more than one man of that audience occupied the same lamplit boat of retrospect misfortune.

Corney Keegan relates his adventure with the picturesque force, derived from practical experience, and many an aching heart will go out to him in sympathy. His story teaches a comprehensive, solemn, and beautiful lesson.

ME mother often spoke to me,
"Corney me boy," siz she,
"There's luck in store for you agra!
You've been so kind to me!
Down be the rath in Reilly's Park
They say that Larry Shawn
That's gone away across the say,
Once cotch a Leprechawn.

He grabbed him be the scruff so hard,
The little crather swore,
That if bowld Larry'd let him go,
He should be poor no more!
"Just look behind ye Larry dear,"
Screeched out the chokin' elf,
"There's hapes of goold in buckets there,
It's all for Larry's self!
If Larry lets the little man
Go free again, he'll be
No longer poor but rich an' great!"
So Larry let him free.
Some say he carried home the goold
An' hid it in the aves,
But some say when the elf was gone
'Twas turned to withered laves.

"If Larry cotch a Leprechawn,"
Me mother then 'ed cry,
"Why you may ketch a fairy queen,
Ma bouchal by an' by!"
Near Balligarry now she sleeps,
Where great O'Brien bled,
And often since I took a thought,
Of what me mother said.

At last I came to Dublin town,
To thry an' sell some pigs,
And maybe then I didn't cut
A quare owld shine of rigs.
I sowld me pigs for forty pound,
For they wor clane an' fat,
An' thin we hadn't American mate,
So they wor chape at that!

"Well now," sez I, "me pocket's full,
I'll not go home just yit,
I'll take a twist up thro' the town
An' thrate meself a bit,"
I mosey'd round to Sackville Street,
When starin' round me best,
I seen a darlin' colleen there,
Most beautifully dhressed.

A posy in her leghorn hat,
An' round her neck, a ruff
Of black cock's feathers, jacket too,
Of raal expensive stuff,
A silver ferruled umberell'
In hand with yalla kid,
An' thro' a great big hairy muff
Her other hand was hid,

O like a sweet come-all-ye, in
A waltzin' swing, she swep'
The toepath, with the music of
Her silken skirt, an' step,
To see her turn the corner, thro'
The lamplight comin' down,
You'd think she owned the freehowld of
That part of Dublin town!
You'd think she owned the sky above,
It's moon with all the stars,
The thraffic in the streets below,
Their thrams, an' carts, an' cars!
You'd think that she was landlady,
Of all that she could see,
An' faith regardin' of meself,
She made her own of me!

"O Corney is it you?" siz she,
An' up to me she came,
I took a start, to hear her there,
Pronouncin' out me name;
"O Corney, there ye are!" siz she
Wid raal familiar smile,
An' thin begar she took me arm,
Most coaxingly the while;

I fluttered like a butterfly,
That's born the first of May,
Wid pride, as if I had the right
Hand side, the Judgment Day!
I felt as airy as a lark that
Skies it from the ground,
To think she'd walk wid me, poor chap,
Wid only forty pound!

She took me arm, an' thrapsed wid me,
All down be Sackville Sthreet,
An' colleens beautifully dhressed,
In two's and three's, we meet,
An' men that grinned, a greenish grin,
Of envy from their eye,
To see me wid that lady grand,
Like paycock marchin' by.

Till comin' to a lamp, I turned,
An' gazed into her eyes,
Me heart that minute took me throat
Wid lump of glad surprise,

Siz I, "Me jewel, thim two eyes,
Are sparklin' awful keen,
"I'm sure," siz I, "I've come across,
Me mother's Fairy Queen!"
"O Corney yis," siz she, "I am,
A Fairy Queen;" siz she,
"An' I can make yer fortune now,
If you'll just come with me."
Wid that, I ups and says "of coorse!"
As bowld as I could spake,
"An' sure I will me darlin', if
Its only for your sake."

Well, whin we passed the statutes white,
Up to O'Connell Brudge,
The Fairy Queen smiled up at me,
An' gev a knowin' nudge,
"Corney!" siz she, "I want a dhrink!"
"Do ye me dear?" siz I,
An' on the minute faith I felt,
Meself was shockin' dhry.

Well then she brought me coorsin off,
Down be the Liffy's walls,
An' up a narra gloomy sthreet,
Up to a Palace Halls!
An' there they wor, all splindid lit,
"Come in me love," siz she.
I thought me heart'ed brake, to hear
Her spake so kind to me!
Well in we wint, an' down we sat,
Behind a marvel schreen,
An' there we dhrank, of drink galore,
Me an' the Fairy Queen.
She spoke by alphabetic signs,
Siz she, "We'll have J.J.
An' whin we swalley'd that, siz she,
"L.L. is raal O.K."

We tossed them off like milk, siz she,
"At these we need'nt stick,
D. W. D.'s a quench you'll find,
A. I, an' up to Dick!"
Well thin she left the alphabet,
An' flying to the sky,
"The three star brand's the best" siz she,
"To sparkle up your eye,"
Thin "here!" says she "just taste Owld Tom,"
But augh! agin me grain
It wint! siz she "It's mum's the word,
We'll cure it, wid champagne!"
I never drank such sortin's, of
The drink, in all me life,
Signs on it, in the mornin', me
Digestion, was at strife!

At last, we qualified our drooth,
An' up she got, siz she,
"We'll just retire to private life,
So Corney, come wid me."
But just before I stood to go,
I siz quite aisy "Miss,
You might bestow poor Corney K.
One little simple kiss."

"Ah! Corney tibbey, sure," said she,
"Two if ye like, ye thrush!"
O have ye saw the blackberries,
Upon the brambly bush?
The Johnny Magory still is bright,
Whin all the flowers are dead,
Her hair, was like the blackberries!
Her dhress, Magory red!

O have you ever saunthered out
Upon a winther's night,
Whin the crispy frost, is on the ground,
An' all the stars, are bright?
Then have you bent your awe sthrick gaze,
There, up aginst the skies?
The stars are very bright, you think,
Well thim was just her eyes

Were you ever down at the strawberry beds,
An' seen them dhrowned in chrame?
Well that was her complexion, and
Her teeth, wor shockin' white!
An' the music of her laughin' chaff,
Was like a beggar's dhrame,
Whin he hears the silver jingle, and
His rags are out of sight!

I thought the dhrop of dhrink was free,
But throth I had to pay!
I thought it quare, but then I thought,
It was the fairy's way;
"Howld on" siz I, "she's thryin' me,
Have I an open heart,
Before she makes me fortune," so,
Begar! I took a start
Of reckless generosity,
An' flung me money round,
'Twas scatthered on the table! In
Her lap, an' on the ground!
I seen it glitter in the air,
Before me wondherin' eyes,
Like little yalla breasted imps,
All dhroppin from the skies!
O then I knew that it was threw,
She was a Fairy Queen,
The goold, came dhroppin'! whoppin'! hoppin'
The like was never seen!
I gave a whipping screech of joy!
Whin, wid a sudden whack,
Some hidden wizard, riz his wand,
An' sthruck me from the back,
Down came the clout upon the brain,
An' froze me senses quite,
An' over all me joy at once,
There shot the darkest night!

* * * * *

I knew no more, till I awoke,
An' found meself alone,
I thrust me hand, to grasp me purse,
Me forty pounds wor gone!
O then, with awful cursin', if
I didn't raise the scenes,
"Bad luck!" siz I, "to Leprechauns,
Bad scran, to Fairy Queens!
Bad luck to them, that spreads abroad,
Such shockin' lyin' tales,
Bad scran has me, that tears me hair,
An' forty pounds bewails!"
With that, I seen a man, come up,
A dark arch, marchin' thro',
As if he hadn't any work,
Particular to do.
He measured me, wid selfish eye,
As cat regards a rat,
An' whin he spoke, begor I found,
'Twas just his price at that!
Siz he "What's all this squealin' for?
What makes ye bawl?" siz he,
Siz he, "I'm a dissective, so,
You'll have to come wid me!"
Siz he, "Yer shouts wor almost loud
Enough, to crack the delph!
An' in the mornin' I must bring
Ye up, before himself!"
"Arrah! What for?" siz I, an' thin,
I towld him all me woe,
An' how I woke, an' found meself
Asleep, an' lyin' low.
I towld him of the whipsther, that
Had whipped me forty pound,
An' left me lyin' fast asleep,
In gutther, on the ground.
Then leerin' like, he turned, and siz,
"You're a nice boy! complate!
To go wid Fairy Queens, like that,
An' lose yer purse, so nate.
Corney!" siz he, "go home!" siz he,
"She might have sarved ye worse,
I'll thry me best, to ketch the Fay,
An' get you back yer purse.
But look! don't shout like that again,
It was a shockin' shout,
It sthruck me, 'twas a house a-fire!
You riz up such a rout.

I thought you'd wake me wife! she sleeps,
Down in a churchyard near!"
Wid that, the dark dissective turned,
An' bursted in a tear!
I dhribbled out a few meself,
Me brow, wid shame I bint,
An' like a lamb, from slaughter, slow,
Wid tottherin' steps I wint,
But never, never from that day,
Was any tidins' seen,
Of me owld purse, me forty pound!
Or of the Fairy Queen!

Then, whin I thought of Norah's wrath,
An' what a power she'd say,
Me fine black hair, riz on me skull,
An' grew all grizzle gray!
O never more, to Dublin town,
I'll come, to sell me pigs!
I walk a melancholy man,
Like one, that's got the jigs,
An' in the town of Limerick, if
You ever chance, to meet
A haggard man, wid batthered hat,
Come sthridin down the sthreet,
An' if he stops, by fits and starts,
An' stares at nothin' keen!
Say "there goes Corney, look he's mad!
He cotch a Fairy Queen."
And if you chance in Sackville Sthreet,
Or any other way,
To meet, all beautifully dhrest,
A lovely colleen gay;

An' if she chances on the name,
That you wor christened by,
An' laughs, as if she knew ye,
With a cute acquaintance eye,
An' if she takes your arm, an' siz,
That she's a Fairy Queen,
Start back in horror, shout aloud,

O woman am I green!
Am I before a doctor's shop,
Where coloured bottles be?
Is there a green light, on my face,
That you should spake to me?
Go home, O Fairy Queen, go home!
At once, an' holus bolus!
Remimber, Corney Keegan's purse,
An' think of the Dublin Polis