| |
| THE night before Larry was stretched, | |
| The boys they all paid him a visit; | |
| A bait in their sacks, too, they fetched; | |
| They sweated their duds till they riz it: | |
| For Larry was ever the lad, | 5 |
| When a boy was condemned to the squeezer, | |
| Would fence all the duds that he had | |
| To help a poor friend to a sneezer, | |
| And warm his gob ’fore he died. | |
| |
| The boys they came crowding in fast, | 10 |
| They drew all their stools round about him, | |
| Six glims round his trap-case were placed, | |
| He couldn’t be well waked without ’em. | |
| When one of us asked could he die | |
| Without having truly repented, | 15 |
| Says Larry, “That’s all in my eye; | |
| And first by the clargy invented, | |
| To get a fat bit for themselves” | |
| |
| “I’m sorry, dear Larry,” says I, | |
| “To see you in this situation; | 20 |
| And blister my limbs if I lie, | |
| I’d as lieve it had been my own station.” | |
| “Ochone! it’s all all over,” says he, | |
| “For the neck-cloth I’ll be forced to put on, | |
| And by this time to-morrow you’ll see | 25 |
| Your poor Larry as dead as a mutton, | |
| Because, why, his courage was good. | |
| |
| “And I’ll be cut up like a pie, | |
| And my nob from my body be parted. | |
| “You’re in the wrong box, then,” says I, | 30 |
| “For blast me if they’re so hard-hearted; | |
| A chalk on the back of your neck | |
| Is all that Jack Ketch dares to give you; | |
| Then mind not such trifles a feck, | |
| For why should the likes of them grieve you? | 35 |
| And now, boys, come tip us the deck.” | |
| |
| The cards being called for, they played, | |
| Till Larry found one of them cheated; | |
| A dart at his napper he made | |
| (The boy being easily heated) ; | 40 |
| “Oh, by the hokey, you thief, | |
| I’ll scuttle your nob with my daddle! | |
| You cheat me because I’m in grief, | |
| But soon I’ll demolish your noddle, | |
| And leave you your claret to drink.” | 45 |
| |
| Then the clergy came in with his book, | |
| He spoke him so smooth and so civil; | |
| Larry tipped him a Kilmainham look, | |
| And pitched his big wig to the devil; | |
| Then sighing, he threw back his head, | 50 |
| To get a sweet drop of the bottle, | |
| And pitiful sighing, he said: | |
| “Oh, the hemp will be soon round my throttle, | |
| And choke my poor windpipe to death. | |
| |
| “Through sure it’s the best way to die, | 55 |
| Oh, the devil a better a-living! | |
| For, sure when the gallows is high | |
| Your journey is shorter to heaven: | |
| But what harasses Larry the most, | |
| And makes his poor soul melancholy, | 60 |
| Is to think on the time when his ghost | |
| Will come in a sheet to sweet Molly— | |
| Oh, sure it will kill her alive!” | |
| |
| So moving these last words he spoke, | |
| We all vented our tears in a shower; | 65 |
| For my part, I thought my heart broke, | |
| To see him cut down like a flower. | |
| On his travels we watched him next day, | |
| Oh, the throttler! I thought I could kill him; | |
| But Larry not one word did say, | 70 |
| Nor changed till he came to “King William”— | |
| Then, musha! his color grew white. | |
| |
| When he came to the nubbling chit, | |
| He was tucked up so neat and so pretty, | |
| The rumbler jogged off from his feet, | 75 |
| And he died with his feet to the city; | |
| He kicked, too—but that was all pride, | |
| But soon you might see ’twas all over; | |
| Soon after the noose was untied, | |
| And at darky we waked him in clover, | 80 |
| And sent him to take a ground sweat. | |
