“ THE ROSE OF ALLANDALE The morn was fair, the skies were clear.
No breath came o’er the sea,
When Mary left her highland cot,
And wander’d forth with me ;
Though flowers deck the mountain’s side,
And fragrance fill the vale.
By far the sweetest flower there,
Was the Rose of Allandale.
Where’er I wander’d, east or west,
Though fate began to low’r,
A solace still was she to me,
In sorrow’s lonely hour ;
When tempests lash’d our gallant bark,
And rent her shiv’ring sail,
One maiden form withstood the storm,
’Twas the Rose of Allandale. ”

“ THE BOYS OF KILKENNY. Oh! the boys of Kilkenny are brave roaring blades,
And if ever they meet with the nice little maids,
They’ll kiss them, and coax them, and spend their money free.
Of all the towns in Ireland, Kilkenny for me.
And of all towns, &c. In the town of Kilkenny there runs a clear stream.
In the town of Kilkenny there lives a fair dame,
Her lips are like roses, and her mouth much the same.
Like a dish of fresh strawberries smother’d in cream
Fal de ral, &c. Her eyes are as black as Kilkenny’s large coal. ”

“ You’d ne’er think of mischief she’s dreaming,
Yet, oh ! I can’t tell how fatal’s the spell
That lurks in the eye of Kate Kearney.
Oh, should you e’er meet this Kate Kearney,
Who lives on the banks of Killarney,
Beware of her smile, for many a wile
Lies hid in the bosom of Kate Kearney.
Though she looks so bewitchingly simple.
There’s mischief in every dimple ”