Roddy Mor the Rover.

Of all the roamin’ jacks that yet to Farranfore kem over,1
As paramount I’d surely count ould Roddy Mor the Rover,2
Wid steeple hat and stiff cravat and nate nankeen knee-
And on his back a pedlar’s pack just rowlin’ o’er wid riches4
For so it was, when o’er the hill his coat-tails they’d come
The sharpest tongue of all was still, the crossest child
cryin’ ;
Ould women even left their tay, ould men their glass of toddy7
An’, spoon in hand, a welcome grand would wave and wave
to Roddy.
An’ when his treasures he’d unlade in view of all the village,9
In from her milkin’ ran the maid, the boy from out the tillage ;10
The while the rogue in each new vogue the lasses he’d go
Until their lads his ribbons, plaids, and rings had no escapin’.12
Now whisht your prate, and take 1 toys,” cried he, “ my
darlin’ childer,
Or my new ballads wid your noise complately you’ll bewilder.”14
Then his Come-All-Ye he’d advance wid such a quare comether15
That you might say he tuk away our sinse and pince together.16
But there !  of all the roamin’ jacks that trass the counthry
For paramount I’d ever count ould Roddy Mor the Rover ;18
For ’deed an’ I believe that when his sperrit parts his body,19
If he’s allowed, he’ll draw a crowd in Heaven itself will Roddy !20