[NLS note: a graphic appears here - see image of page]

                  A NEW SONG CALLED

         The Cowardly Englishman

Ton gallant sons of Grania,pay attention for a while,
I'm sure these verses I have here will cause you soon to smile,
Concerning this great battle we've expected to take place,
But the Englishman was cowardly and did not show his face.

                                     Chorus :

So toast to worthy Coburn, his praises we will sing,
Be did defy the ENGLISHMAN as he approached the ring.

On the 4th day of October our Champion took his way,
With courage bold I will unfold his valour to display,
He gave three cheers for Ireland and the little Shamrock Green,
The English cried we are ashamed, Jem Mace cannot be seen.

The Englishmen beat five to one that Mace would gain the day.
But indeed they were mistaken for poor Jem be ran away,
Our champion boldly stood the ring without either dread or fear
But he was disappointed Jem Mace did not appear.

Then were many of our Cuizen got ready on that day,
And followed gallant Coburn in hopes to see some play
With gold and silver plenty both in pocket and in purse,
Jem Mace for his great cowardise got many a heavy curse.

My age is nine-and twenty and my weight eleven stone,
I'm five feet eleven and a half in height and Irish every bone,
I never met a bully yet of fifteen stone or more,
Was ever fit to conquer me all on Columbia's shore.

Jem Mace leave off your boasting you have no more to say,
The day that you were wanted like a coward you ran away,
Indeed it is a pity you should wear the English belt,
For when you came to Ireland, you got shy to shew your pelt.

Our champion in great courage with his seconds faced the ring,
But Mace the cowardly bully to his fight they could not bring,
I'm sure he thought of Cooper, when his jaw was broke in two,
For Granua's sons were never beat in all that they went through.

Let Englishmen no longer boast nor Paddy's sons degrade,
For now they must surrender to our gallant Irish blade,
With honour now they wear the belt the English may deplere,
The day they chalenged Coburn from Erin's shamrock shore.

Now to conclude and finish I mean to say'no more,
But here's to every Irishman that loves the shamrock shore,
Three cheers for brave Joe. Cuburn he's a son of Granuale,
To tame the English bullys that his courage may not fail.

[NLS note: a graphic appears here - see image of page]

   The Irish Girls My
            Darling.

Florence M'Carthy's dead and gone,
The wild Irish girl is mourning,
Gone into mourn whence
There's no chance of returning;
But Lady Morgan has left poor Fat
A page on which to ponder,
Of loving Colleen Bawns and Dhus
That's all the world's wonder.

The Irish girls with silken ourls,
And love that's ell as sterling,
As Wicklow gold from the mountains heart,
Arrah, the Irish girls my. darling.

The grand Signoir may pick and choose
The beauty of his harem,
But Ml wallop his whole scraglio,
With a Leinster harem-scarem ,
Sweet love and laughter are in her eyes,
She came from the town of Navan,
A thundering Turk he sure must be
That would say she's not worth having.

The bright eyes of Italia's maids,
Are lances of Castile, O,
To pierce the heart of poor or clown.
Whom warm love can feel, 0.
But drive me up to sweet Clonmel,
Prom the castle to the dairy,
There are lancet eyes 'neath beauteous brow
In golden Tipperary,

And Scotland has her beauties too,
There's bonnie Annie Laurie,
Poor Bob Burns, Highland Mary,
And the ancient lass of Gowrie;
Love and live 'mong your Highland bills,
I'm up to the west for—arrah
The Irish Highlands form my home,
And there are girls in Connemara.

The Spanish brunett's bonny lip
Will coax you into armour,
But let her discover slightrd love,
The devil himself won't calm her.
Then here's to Ulster, cold she be,
Where there's no stillet to tantrum—
Give me the girl that minds the ax
And hurrah for Connemara.

Then nere's to the girl with eyes so blue
The black, the brown, the hazel,
May poverty never blink their lips
Or in one of their hearts raise it—
The four province are justly proud
Of their gleeful virtuous girls,
Their hearts the sanctuary of
The pearl of all the pearls