The Wake of Teddy Roe. I. IN Dublin, that city of riches and fame, A fishmonger lived, Teddy Roe was his name; The neighbours all grieved, rich, poor, high, and low, Mr. O'Dogherty, the coachman, was sent for immediately Now you see, Dogherty, we want you to drive us clean and decently to Teddy Roe's wake. By the powers he has taken it into his head to die, so he would not be very well pleased if we neglected calling on him, so drive away with the most beautiful Mistress Delaney, Mistress Blaney, Mister Fagan, and Miss Doe, Who in a coach all went to wake with Teddy Roe. II. All bedizen'd so fine in their best Sunday clothes, Miss Doe's squinting eyes, Misther Fagan's red nose, At poor Ted's they arrived where they'd been oft before, And Dogherty gave a loud thump at the door. Out hobbles Phelim, Teddy's uncle. Arrah, is it yourself that comes to wake with poor Ted ?—he's up in the cock-loft taking a parting glass of Innoshone with a few friends, so be afther walking up the ladder if you please-Scrape your feet, Judy, Judy, the quality is come; stick the corpse up against the wall, clap his wig on his head, and put a pipe in his mouth. Walk up, ladies, the punch will soon be ready, and we'll all get drunk for sorrow. γ. Περιθρεξε ποθηνον και υδωρ ωχεως, Επεα πτερόεντα εποντο πληγαι Μαστιγούτο δ' Ρωιδεος νεκρος-αι! αι! Ιου ! Ιου ! τι ουν ποιείτε ω κακοδαιμονες; Ναι μα δυναμιν Μολχελλίης τον νεκρον τυπτουσι. Ιου ! Ιου ! Ιου ! Ω μοι! Αι! Αι! εμον ανεψιον αποπνιξουσι. Ελκε, ελκε φιλτατ ̓ Ιουδη. Ωμοι ! Ωμοι ! Αιμα και Τραυματα ! του νεκυος όμματα εμελανωσαν. δ. Νοστούντες λυπης πληροι και ποθήνου Αρίστου, τα πραγματα στρεψαν κυκλῳ Θ ́ ομιλος κυλινδεται εν βορβορῳ. Χασμα. Ε. Εις οικον Δογερτιαδου τοτ' ουτοι Θρηνηται τοιουτοι προ τούτου κρονου 'Ορωντο μηδεποτε περι νεκρού. Ω Ζευ Δογερτιάδε τι ουν τοσουτους διαβολους επανάγεις ; *Η, η σιωπα μηδεν ειπης νηπιον, και παντα ακουσεις Αλλα πρωτον Ιουδη δει νιπτειν και στρωννύναι κλινην τουτοις—λεγω : Δεσποιναν Δηληνην, νυμφην τε και Δω, Δεσποιναν και Βληνην, συν τῳ Φηγηνῳ, Οινοβαρους ανα Ρωιδει νεκρῳ. III Now the whiskey went round till they could not agree They from words fell to blows, just like Donnybrook fair, Hubbaboo! Hubbaboo ! what the devil are you all about? What are you doing? By the powers of Moll Kelly if they have'nt got poor Ted down amongst them! Och they'll smother the poor creature; get him off Judy; take hold of his leg, and help me to drag him from under the lump. Och, blood and 'ouns see there now. They have given the corpse a black eye. IV. Returning a coach full of whisky and grief, By old Dogherty driven, of coachmen the chief; Hiatus valdè deflendus. V. Then be-mudded without, and with whisky within, Bless us, Dogherty, what are you bringing home? where did you pick 'em up, jewell? Oh, don't bother me, and you will get the whole account as clear as mud; but Judy, we must first wash the most beautiful, Mistress Delaney, Mistress Blaney, Mister Fagan, and Miss Doe, Who in a coach all went to wake with Teddy Roe. DOCTHOR PORTHER comes next-the Sancho Panza of litherature and of the Cork Cuvierian Society. He is a Solomon Wise-acre of the paradoxical school. He believes with Lord Monboddo, that all men is born with tails like munkies, which the midwives cairfully wrings off at the moment of berth, and he beleeves with himself and a few more enlitened enquirers of the Cuvierian, that swine have sowls, and that pig-butchers is guilty of murther whenever they stix an ould sow. He maintains the theory of Docthor Buckland, that Adam was 150 feet high; that he had two heads, four leggs, three arms four elbows, one nose, and tin eyes; and assarts positively that Irish was the language spoken be him and his rib Eve. Havin' a high opinion of his own wisdom he declares, that a goose is a very sinsible bird; and havin' often obsarved the formation of his head in the lookin' glass, he boasts of havin' diskivered that intherestin' sacret of nature, so long wrapped up in darkniss— videlicet, the thrue rason why jackasses has airs. He it was who furst made known to the world that afther a storm comes a calm—that it is day when the sun shines— that dead men tells no tales-that shops shut is a sure sign of Sunday that all cats is gray in the dark-and that as soon as the sun sets there is many bastes in the shade-that whin ye sups with the Divil ye must have a long spoon-that what is ill got goes ill-that little dogs have long tails-that the moon ain't made o' green cheese, as many o' the vulgar supposes-that what's sauce for the goose is sauce also for the gandher-that a nod is as good as a wink for a blind horse-that soup may be supped with a fork-that nine tailors makes a man- -that the largest calves ain't the sweetest vail— that it's too late to lock the stable door whin the mayor is stolen-that a bird in the hand is worth two in a bush-that a stitch in time saves nine-that an ould dog will larn no new thricks-that blind men aint no judges of colours-and that one can have no more of a cat than her skin-that what's bred in the bone ca'nt be got out o' the flesh-that a burnt child dhreads the fire, and that a cat in mittens ketches no mice. He has insthruckted the world in a variety of mysterious sacrets utterly unknown to our simple ansesthors, sich as to bring their noble to nine pins, and their nine pins to nothin'-to build castles in the air-to scratch whin it do'nt itch-to light the candle at both ends-to take a wrong sow by the ear-to fall between two stools to set a beggar a horseback-to ketch ould birds with chaff-to raise the wind, and to make a silk purse out of a sows ear-to send one's wits a wool gatherin'-and to whistle jigs to milestones. He it was who furst diskivered that the great profit Moses never shut his eyes but when he wint to sleep, and demonsthrated from the follyin' lines of Aristophanes, that the sacrets of gas, galvanism, and the steem Indian was well know to the anshient Grakes :Ωοπ οπ ωοπ, οπ Βρεκεκεκεξ κοαξ κοαξ Βρεκεκεκεξ κοαξ κοαξ.-Ranæ. v, 210. |