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           A NEW SONG CALLED

                  THE KNIGHT


             THE CARPET BAG.

         Air.—" Paddies evermore."

Come all you gallant Galway boys,
And I will tell you how,
Old Reddington' the Renegade,
Makes such a racket now,
T'was in the year of 48,
One blooming summers's day,
That noble William Smith O'Brien,
Fell in the traitors way.

Oh ! then this base Informer,
He vowed he'd lose a fall,
Or hold O'Brien's carpet-bag,
His Letters, shirts, and all !
And so he held his greedy grip,
Untill the trial came,
And then he swore his life away,
With infamy and shame.

Next came the cursed Titles Bill,
With penalties and pains,
To send our holy Bishops,
All across the seas in chains ;
And then this upstart traitor,
He said he'd lend a hand,
To banish them like serpents,
From their own native land.

Is this " the man for Galway,"
Accursed by man and God,
False to our holy Roman Church,
And the green old Irish sod ;
May Heaven Almighty strike us low,
And Earth refuse us bread,
Ere this of gallant Galway's tribes,
Should ever yet be said !

Then down with this false renegade,
Him, and his ribbon blue,
The recreant Knight of the Carpet Bag,
To honour so untrue ;
From Ross bold Duffy hunted him,
At home, for years to grieve
And in the County—John of Tuam,
Gave him his " Ticket of-leave ".

In old Kilcornan let him pine,
His perfidy to rue,
And when he talks of Galway's men,
Still raise the " Wirrastrue " ;
Of us he ne'er shall make the means,
To drive his traitor trade
Hurrah for Galway's honour bright,
And Down with the Renegade !!