IRISH TOASTS
IRISH TOASTS
By SHANE HA OAEL
Ho nฐ CALDWELL, Cฉฐ fjew yopik iwio isฎstฉh
ฃ**. *ซ*ซ*-
INTRODUCTION
Irish wit, Irish eloquence, Irish patriotism, Irish hospitality, and the
Irishman's high admiration and respect for woman are famous the world over.
This collection of Irish Toasts and Sentiments contains the cream of it all.
Ready-witted as every Irishman is, he will be glad to have this little
reminder of the right things to say on the right occasion. Here are Toasts
Patriotic, Convivial and Humorous, Toasts to Love, to Women and to Friendship
and a miscellaneous garland of sentiments from which the bright flowers may be
plucked at will or as the occasion serves.
And with all Irishmen all the world over the compiler lifts his glass with
the sentiment we all so ardently love,
" Erin slain the gal go bragh!" vii
CONTENTS
PAGE
Introduction......vii
Patriotic Toasts and Sentiments . . i Toasts and Sentiments to Women, Love,
Friendship, etc. . . . -37
Convivial and Humorous Toasts . 59 Miscellaneous Toasts and Sentiments . 93
PATRIOTIC TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS
i
A greeting and a promise unto them all we send;
Their character our charter is, their glory is our end,
Their friend shall be our friend, our foe whoe'er assails
The glory or the story of the sea-divided Gaels
One in name and in fame Are the sea-divided Gaels.
*
A high Post to the enemies of Ould Ireland.
All hail fairest land in Neptune's old
ocean! Thou land of St. Patrick, my
Ireland agra! Cold, cold must the heart be, and
void of emotion
3
That loves not the music of Erin go bragh!
*
Americans and Irishmen They i may differ as to whether the patron saint of
the latter had any hand in driving out the enemies of the former but in this
they will agree to ! stand together and fall together, before a hostile foot
shall again be placed on the land of their birth or the land of their adoption.
And when at last in death we're laid
ashes to ashes gone, When earth and faction cease for
us, and we are all alone, The mantle that our mother spreads :
above our grave I ween Is still the color of our land, our
own sad, lonely green.
4
A priestly train, o'er the briny main
Shall greet my love, And wine of Spain to thy health will drain
My Ros geal dubh.
Arch of the ocean and Queen of the West!
ปr
Be bold, united, firmly set, Nor flinch in word or tone
We'll be a glorious nation yet, Redeemed erect alone!
Bless the country, say I, that gave Patrick his birth,
Bless the land of the oak, and its neighboring earth,
Where grow the shillelah and shamrock so green!
5
May the sons of the Thames, the Tweed, and the Shannon,
Drub the foes who dare plant on our confines a cannon;
United and happy, at Loyalty's shrine,
May the rose and the thistle long flourish and twine
Round the sprig of shillelah and i shamrock so green!
Hi
Buried and cold when my heart stills
her motion, Green be thy fields, sweetest Isle of
the ocean, And thy harp striking bards sing
aloud with emotion, Erin mavourneen! Erin go bragh!
I *
But come, fill up another cup, And with every sup we'll say,
6
"Here's dear Old Ireland! Loved Old Ireland! Ireland, boys, hurrah!"
*
But whether on the scaffold high,
Or in the battle's van, The fittest place where man can die
Is where he dies for man!
Come! pledge again thy heart and hand One grasp that ne'er shall sever; Our
watchword be " Our native land!" Our motto " Love forever! "
*
Daniel O'Connell Athens boasted of a Solon, an Aristides and a Demosthenes,
but Ireland beholds all their
7
*ป
Erin the land of potatoes; may it never lack butter-milk.
ปป
Erin the land of the brave and the bold.
ฃฃ
Erin! thy silent tear shall never cease Erin! thy languid smile shall ne'er
increase Till, like the rainbow's light Thy varied tints unite, And form in
Heaven's sight One arch of Peace.
*m
Erin's friend; may his name live for ever.
*
Flag of beauty, flag of splendor, May old Erin's sons defend her Till thy
folds shall float above her
9
Free as shines the noonday sun: Till the hated links that bind her Shall with
scorn be flung behind her, Till fair freedom smiles upon her,
By her children's valor won.
God shield you, champions of the Gael, Never may your foes prevail, Never
were ye known to yield Basely in the embattled field.
%
Here's the shamrock, the thistle, the
leek, and the rose, And the four saints, for emblems,
which each of them chose, Flourish long and live happy, like
sister and brother, Since now all the four have married
each other.
10
Here is to old Ireland, her sons and her daughters; Here is to her emblem,
the Shamrock, I mean. May the sun always shine on the round towers of Erin.
That's a toast from the heart of an Irish colleen.
Here's to the land of the shamrock
so green, Here's to each lad and his darling
colleen, Here's to the ones we love dearest
and most - And may God save old Ireland! That's
an Irishman's toast.
*
Hibernia Steeped in her own tears she never can get up; soaking
ii
in whiskey, she must go down; but bathing in " coult wather " she will get
on " swimmingly."
Horticultural Experiments May the tree of freedom soon be planted in
Ireland, and may John Bull find it as difficult to uproot as he found it here.
it
I'm weary for old Ireland once again To see her fields before me, In
sunshine or in rain! And the longing in my heart when it comes o'er me Stings
like pain.
In her cause I am willin' my veins should run dhry,
12
And for Ireland's sweet sake I am ready to die.
*
Ireland! Ancient Ireland!
Ancient! yet for ever young! Thou one mother, home and sireland, Thou at
length hast found a tongue, Proudly thou at length Resistest in triumphant
strength.
*
Ireland and America May the former soon be as free as the latter, and may
the latter never forget that Irishmen were instrumental in securing the liberty
they now enjoy.
Ireland St. Patrick destroyed its creeping things of other days may
13
his disciples speedily exterminate the political reptiles of the present age.
*
Ireland: sympathy to her wrongs, and a determination to redress them.
\ Ireland: the sister of proud England, may she never be her bonded slave.
Ireland's harp all over the world.
%
Ireland's harp: may its chords never be broken.
I *
Ireland's immortal Shamrock: may it be green for ever.
14
Irish heroes: and the apprentices of Londonderry.
Irish Shillelaghs: may they never break the head of a friend.
Irishmen The love of liberty will burn in their bosoms as long as their
bright isle is washed by the ocean.
Justice to Ireland A domestic legislature alone can confer it; to expect it
from a London Parliament is an idle dream, and we Irishmen, on this side of the
water, hope that full restitution will be made for past injustices.
i5
Land of my forefathers, Erin-go-
Bragh! Buried and cold when my heart stills
its motion, Green be thy fields, sweetest isle of
the ocean, And thy harp-striking bards sing
aloud with devotion, Erin Mavoureen! Sweet Erin-go-
Bragh!
Let all atone
For blood and groan, For dark revenge and open wrong;
Let all unite
For Ireland's right And drown our griefs in Freedom's song.
V
May the Cork of Irish freedom float proudly on the waves of Irish liberty.
16 .
May the day come quickly when Great Britain will discover that Irishmen are
her stanchest friends, and when Irishmen will learn that Englishmen are their
brothers.
ts
May the Emerald Isle ever bloom in the main, and only be trodden by the foot
of friendship.
May the Emerald Isle that grows
out of the sea Flourish long in Prosperity, happy
and free.
*
May the Irishmen wear their grievances till they are all re-dressed.
i7
May the shamrock continue to flourish, and ever be an emblem of unity,
charity, friendship, and love.
%
My blessing be on you, old Erin, My own land of frolic and fun,
For all sorts of mirth and diversion Your like is not under the sun.
%
O Ireland, isn't it grand you look Like a bride in her rich adornin'?
And with all the pent-up love of my heart I bid you the top o* the mornin'!
%
Oh! the green land, the old land, Far dearer than the gold land, With all its
landscape glory and unchanging summer skies;
18
Let others seek their pleasures In the chase of golden treasures, Be mine a
dream of Erin, and the light of Kathleen's eyes.
*
On one side is Virtue and Erin On theirs is the Saxon and Guilt!
Peace and Prosperity to Ireland
*
Pearly are the skies in the country of my fathers, Purple are thy mountains,
home of my heart. Mother of my yearning, love of all my longings, Keep me in
remembrance, long leagues apart.
19
Quick, quick, now, I'll give you, since
Time's glass will run Even faster than ours doth, three
bumpers in one; Here's to the poet who sings here's
to the warrior who fights Here's to the statesman who speaks,
in the cause of men's rights.
Shannon's flowery banks: may they bloom for ever.
She is a rich and a rare land, Oh! she's a fresh and a fair land, She is a
dear and rare land This native land of mine.
*
Slante gael go bragh! 20
Success to the Emerald Isle
Where Shillelagh and Shamrocks abound, May peace and prosperity smile
O'er the land and its natives around.
*
The anniversary of St. Patrick's day: and may the Shamrock be green for ever.
The birthplace of wit, and the home of hospitality Ireland.
*
The Descendants of Irishmen May they never forget the respect which they
owe to the land which contains the ashes of their fathers.
21
The Emerald Isle May her sons and daughters resemble a field of potatoes in
full bloom, beautiful to look upon; and when called on to assist the distressed,
may they, like the roots, prove a real blessing to the poor.
*
. The everlasting Green for me; And we for one another.
*
The green, oh the green, it's the
color of the true To wear it far transcends in worth,
the orange or the blue, Arrayed in brilliant blue above the
spreading sky is seen, But the mantle of our mother earth
is still the glorious green.
22
The Heart of an Irishman A living monument of the kind and generous
feelings while the hand of Charity guides the stream, may the hand of Wealth
yield a perpetual supply.
The homes that our fathers our
childhood endeared That our memories cling to with
pining desire, Shall be Ours Ours again and
the brave will be heard, The long exiled brave cheering
Sheela na guire.
%
The Irish - American may his tribe increase!
%
The Lads of the land of Shillelagh. 23
The queen of all islands is Erin, the blest.
*
The savage loves his native shore,
Though rude the soil and chill the air; Then well may Erin's sons adore
Their isle, which nature formed so fair. What flood reflects a shore so sweet
As Shannon great, or pastoral Bann? Or who a friend or foe can meet
So generous as an Irishman?
His hand is rash, his heart is warm, But honesty is still his guide;
No more repent a deed of harm, And none forgives with nobler pride;
He may be duped, but won't be dared More fit to practise than to plan;
24
He dearly earns his poor reward, And spends it like an Irishman.
If strange or poor, for you he'll pay,
And guide to where you safe may be; If you're his guest, while e'er you stay
His cottage holds a jubilee. His inmost soul he will unlock,
And if he may your secrets scan, Your confidence he scorns to mock,
For faithful is an Irishman.
By honor bound in woe or weal
Whate'er she bids he dares to do; Try him with bribes they won't prevail;
Prove him in fire you'll find him true. He seeks not safety, let his post Be
where it ought, in danger's van;
25
And if the field of fame be lost, It won't be by an Irishman.
Erin! loved land! from age to age
Be thou more great, more famed, and free; May peace be thine, or, should'st
thou wage
Defensive war, cheap victory. May plenty bloom in every field
Which gentle breezes softly fan, And cheerful smiles serenely gild
The home of every Irishman!
The Shamrock, the green immortal Shamrock,
Chosen leaf
Of Bard and Chief, Old Erin's native Shamrock.
26
Then let us be frisky, and tipple the
whiskey, Long life to the land of dear liberty's
joys,
No country whatever has power to
sever The Shamrock, the Rose and the
Thistle, my boys.
Then here's their memory may it be
For us a guiding light, To cheer our strife for liberty,
And teach us to unite! Through good and ill, be Ireland's still,
Though sad as theirs, your fate; And true men, be you, men,
Like those of Ninety-Eight.
27
There's a dear little plant that grows in our isle,
'Twas Saint Patrick himself, sure, that set it;
And the sun on his labor with pleasure did smile,
And with dew from his eye often wet it.
It thrives through the bog, through the brake, through the mireland;
And he called it the dear little shamrock of Ireland, The sweet little
shamrock, the
dear little shamrock, The sweet little, green little, shamrock of Ireland.
This dear little plant still grows in
our land, Fresh and fair as the daughters
of Erin, Whose smiles can bewitch, whose
eyes can command,
28
In each climate that they may appear in; And shine through the bog, through
the brake, through the mireland:
The sweet little shamrock, the dear little shamrock,
The sweet little, green little, shamrock of Ireland.
This dear little plant that springs from our soil, When its three little
leaves are extended, Denotes from one stock we together should toil, And
ourselves by ourselves be befriended; And still through the bog, through the
brake, through the mireland, From one root should branch, like the shamrock
of Ireland, The sweet little shamrock, the dear little shamrock,
20
The sweet little, green little, shamrock of Ireland.
v
Those hues in our bosoms be sure to unite, boys: Let each Irish heart wear
those emblems so true; Be^ fresh as the green, and be pure as the white, boys,
Be bright as the orange, sincere as the blue. I care not a jot Be your scarf
white or not, If you love as a brother each child of the soil;
I ask not your creed, If you'll stand in her need To the land of your birth
in the hour of her dolors, The foe of her foes, let them be who they may;
30
Then, " Fusion of hearts, and confusion of colors! " Be the Irishman's toast
on St. Patrick's Day.
Though absent, the fount of our faith
is not frozen, While we live, of its upwelling
waters we'll draw, For the maids that we love, for the
land that we've chosen, Where freedom is nursed at the
bosom of law. " Land of the free! for the shelter
thou'st given To those whom the storm of oppression has driven From their
homes, may a blessing be
on thee from Heaven," Say the sons and the daughters
of Erin go bragh.
3i
To the Country that gave St. Patrick birth.
To the Irishmen in America! They have built our great public works; they
have constructed our vast system of railways; they have risen to place of power
and eminence in every walk of industry and in every avenue which is open to
brains and pluck.
*
To the Shamrock, that never will lose its emerald hue.
To our native land. Every one loves it whether he was born there or not.
32
" True to his name, his country, and
his God, Faithful at home, and steadfast still
abroad.''
Truth for England and Justice for Ireland.
" Well, here's thank God for the race
and the sod! " Said Kelly and Burke and Shea.
Wert thou all that I wish thee, Great, glorious and free, First flower of the
earth, And first gem of the sea.
We've heard her faults a hundred times,
at
The new ones and the old, In songs and sermons, ranns and rhymes, Enlarged
some fifty fold, But take them all, the great and small, And this we've got to
say: Here's dear Old Ireland, Good Old Ireland, Ireland, boys, hurrah!
*
What flood reflects a shore so sweet As Shannon's sweet or pastoral Farm?
Or who a friend or foe can meet So generous as an Irishman?
n
When Erin first rose from the dark
swelling flood, God blessed the green Island, and saw
it was good;
34
The em'rald of Europe, it sparkled
and shone In the ring of the world the most
precious stone. In her sun, in her soil, in her station
thrice blest, With her back towards Britain, her
face to the West, Erin stands proudly insular on her
steep shore, And strikes her high harp 'mid the
ocean's deep roar.
Yes! Ireland shall be free, From the centre to the sea; Then hurrah for
Liberty! Says the Shan Van Vocht.
35
TOASTS AND
SENTIMENTS TO
WOMEN, LOVE,
FRIENDSHIP, ETC.
A delectable dear is woman, so sweet that honey would blush in her presence,
and molasses (he said " traycle ") stand appalled.
%
A Girl, a Bumper, and a Friend
An Irish lad's a jolly boy,
Full of frolic, mirth, and fun, Wine and women all his joy,
And from a foe he'll never run. And whether he is rich or not,
He ne'er feels discontent at all, For when he cash in store has got,
Ne'er rests till he has spent it all. Och so frisky fond of whiskey,
Joy is never at an end; Love's his boast and this his toast,
A Girl, a Bumper, and a Friend.
How free of care's an Irish boy,
A foe to all formality, A social life his only joy,
39
His motto Hospitality. His monarch too he'll dearly love,
His measures, faith, he'll back them all; And as for foes, he'll quickly
prove
How naitly he can whack 'em all. He'll dance and sing God save the King,
Success the noble Crown attend; All cares deride no wish beside
"A Girl, a Bumper, and a Friend.
In me you see an Irish lad,
Content to please, and willing, Och, Who laughs when comfort's to be had,
And pays while he's a shilling, Och. Then take my hand, 0 Fanny, love,
And make no further pother, Och. My heart is yours things clearly prove
We're made for one another, Och.
40
We'll sing and play no larks more
gay,
Our joys shall never have an end; No wish beside our own fireside, My wife,
a Bumper, and a Friend.
%
A good wife and health Are a man's best wealth.
%
Again prepare here's to the Fair Whose smiles with joy have crowned us,
Then drain the bowl for each gay soul That's drinking here around us.
" Ah, happy is he, crowned with such life,
4i
Who drinks the wife pledging the
sweetheart, And toasts in the sweetheart the
wife."
*
Be thou but fair, mankind adore
thee! Smile, and a world is weak before
thee!
But send round the bowl: while a relic of truth Is in man or in woman, this
prayer shall be mine That the sunshine of love may illumine our youth And the
moonlight of friendship console our decline.
42
Come, fill 'round a bumper, fill up
to the brim: He who shrinks from a bumper I
pledge not to him: Here's to the girl that each loves,
be her eyes of what hue, Or lustre, it may, so her heart is but
true.
%
Come in the evening, or come in
the morning, Come when you're looked for or
come without warning; A thousand welcomes you'll find
here before you, And the oftener you come here the
more we'll adore you.
*
Die when you will, you need not wear At Heaven's court a form more fair
43
Than beauty here on earth has
given: Keep but the lovely looks we see, The voice we hear, and you will be
An angel ready made for Heaven.
%
Disguise our bondage as we will, 'Tis a woman rules us still.
is
Drink to her who long Hath waked the poet's sigh,
The girl who gave to song What gold could never buy!
Fill a dozen bumpers to a dozen beauties, and she that floats atop is the
maid that has bewitched you.
44
Go-de-thu, Mavourneen slaun. (May you go safe, my darling.)
*
If Love is an innocent thing, my dear,
My heart then is innocent too; For sure it contains a devil a thing But love
for an angel that's you And all of the day, it's the whole of my lay, This
love I am bearing for you.
Irish eyes! Irish eyes!
Eyes that most of all can move me! Lift one look From my book Through your
lashes dark, and prove me In my worship, oh, how wise!
45
It takes more genius to be a man than manhood to be a genius. As to the
differences between men and women, I believe that when their accounts have been
properly balanced it will be found that it has been a case of six of one and
half a dozen of the other, both in the matter of sovereignty and of mereness,
and therefore without prejudice I propose that the sixes to which I belong shall
rise and cordially drink to the health of the other half dozens, our kind and
generous hosts of to-night.
Let us drink to the thought that
where'er a man roves He is sure to find something blissful
and dear, And that when he is far from the lips
that he loves,
46
He can always make love to the lips that are near.
Let those love now who never loved
before, Let those who always loved now love
the more.
%
Lord! I wonder what fool it was that first invented kissing.
*
Love must, in short,
Keep fond and true, Thro' good report
And evil too.
May the smiles of women cheer Irish lads so clever
47
That they in whiskey drink to beauty's queens for ever.
*
May we never see poor hounds about a house
That drag their mangy life, Or a good Irish gentleman
"Attending on his wife. (i. e., for want oj help.)
1$
0 the boys of Kilkenny are brave
roving blades, And if ever they meet with the nice
little maids They'll kiss them and coax them r n 1
spend their money free Of all the Towns in Ireland Kilkenny
for me.
48
Of all the lands beneath the sun Old Ireland is the dearest one.
My green robed, meek eyed mother, And though there's trouble on her now,
Though pain and sorrow mark her brow,
Where is there such another?
I love each hill and flowery dale That decks my own fair Innisfail,
I love her sparkling waters, I love her ruins, grey and old, I love her sons
so true and bold
And don't I love her daughters!
Oh! fairer than the lily tall, and
sweeter than the rose, As modest as the violet in dewy dell
that blows; With heart as warm as summer
noon, and pure as winter snow
49
The pride of Erin's isle is she, dear Irish Molly 0!
Oh the bumpers went round With an elegant sound, Chink, chink, like sweet
bells went
the glasses, the glasses, " We drank Queen and King And each other fine
thing, Then bumpered the beautiful lasses, sweet lasses.
ti
The Daughters of Ireland, entrenched within the fortress of parental
affection; May they never surrender the citadels of their hearts, except to
those who wield the arms of sincere love, chastened by morality and temperance.
So
The dewy blue blossom that hangs
on the spray, More blue than her eye human eye
never saw, Deceit never lurked in its beautiful
ray. Dear lady, I drink to you, Slainte go
bragh!
%
The drum is his pleasure, his joy and
delight, It leads him to pleasure as well as
to fight. There's never a girl, though ever so
glum, But packs up her tatters, and follows
the drum.
if
The girl that is witty, The girl that is pretty, The girl an eye black as a
sloe,
5*
Here's to girls of each station Throughout Ireland's nation, And especially
one that I know.
*
The Irish Heart Quick and strong in its generous impulses, firm in its
attachments, sound to the core.
*
The poet of the ladies, Tom Moore.
*m
Then remember whenever your goblet is crowned, To the eastward, or westward,
wherever you roam, Whenever the health of dear woman goes 'round, Remember the
smiles that adorn her at home.
52
Then you know a boy is an ass, Then you know the worth of a lass Once you
have come to forty year.
* ■
Tho' the last glimpse of Erin with
sorrow I see Yet wherever thou art shall seem
Erin to me, In exile thy bosom shall still be my
home And thine eyes make my climate
wherever I roam.
*
Through all the drama whether
damned or not Love gilds the scene, and women
guide the plot.
%
To Every Maid, Wife, or Widow S3
To each to all, I'm ever true, To God to Ireland and to you.
*
Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen,
Here's to the widow of fifty, Here's to the flaunting extravagant queen, And
here's to the housewife that's thrifty.
Let the toast pass, Drink to the lass, I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse
for the glass.
Here's to the maiden whose dimples we prize, And here's to her that has non:,
sir, Here's to the maid with a pair of blac ■: eyes, And here is to her that's
but one, sir.
Let the toast pass, etc.
54
Here's to the maid with the bosom of snow, And to her that's brown as a
berry; And here's to the wife with a face full of woe, And here's to the girl
that is merry. Let the toast pass, etc.
Let her be clumsy, or let her be slim, Young or ancient I care not a feather,
So fill the pint bumper quite up to the brim, And e'en let us toast them
together. Let the toast pass, etc.
%
To ladies' eyes, around, boys, We can't refuse, we can't refuse,
Their bright eyes so abound, boys, It's hard to choose, it's hard to choose.
55
To Love, for heaven and earth adore
him, And gods and mortals bow before him.
*
Let every man now give his toast, Fill up the glass I'll tell you mine:
Wine is the mistress I love most; This is my toast, now give me thine.
Well said, my lad, ne'er let it stand, I give you Chloe, nymph divine;
May love and wine go hand in hand; This is my toast, now give me thine.
Fill up the glasses to the brink, Hebe, let no one dare decline;
'Twas Hebe taught me first to drink; This is my toast, now give me thine.
Ge'mmen, give my wife, d'ye see, May all to make her blest combine,
56
So she be far enough from me; This is my toast, now give me thine.
Let constant lovers at the feet
Of pale-fac'd wenches sigh and pine,
For me, the first kind girl I meet Shall be my toast, now give me thine.
You toast your wife, and you your lass, My boys, and welcome, here's the
wine;
For my part, he who fills my glass Shall be my toast, now give me thine.
What's a table richly spread Without a woman at its head?
%
When once the young heart of a
maiden is stolen, The maiden herself will steal after it
soon.
57
Wherever you roam, wherever you roam,
You nothing will meet
Half so lovely or sweet As the girls at home, the girls at home.
V
Wine of Spain, To her we'll drain, Whoe'er she be, I love her!
is
Women are like tricks by sleight of hand,
Which to admire, we should not understand.
58
CONVIVIAL AND HUMOROUS TOASTS
Beimedh a gole! (Let us be drinking.)
A glass is good, a lass is good, And a pipe to smoke in cold weather.
The world is good and the people are good, And we're all good fellows
together.
*
Be the whiskey ever near thee, thro'
the day and night, 'Tis the cordial for all ages, Every evil it assuages And
to bards and saints and sages
Gives joy and life and light.
Bird of the North! By instinct fine
You sought a perfect sea. And we to-night from sparkling wine
Will make that place for thee!
61
No longer seek the rippling brine, Or haunt the marshy waste,
But dip your wing in drink divine, With celery to your taste.
Bird of the blest, a choicer wave
Flows o'er our goblet's brim, And in it you shall sweetly lave, I And in it
you shall swim! I No more the waters beat your breast, Your tired wings brave
the sky, But you shall have eternal rest, And float in " Extra Dry."
*
But send round the bowl, and be happy awhile May we never meet worse in our
pilgrimage here ] Than the tear that enjoyment may 1 gild with a smile
And the smile that compassion can turn to a tear.
62
" Cead mille failte," they'll give you
down at Donovan's, As cheery as the spring-time, and Irish
as the Canavaun. The wish of my heart is if ever I had
one That every luck in life may linger
with the Donovan.
Come fill round a bumper, fill up to
the brim, He who shrinks from a bumper I
pledge not to him.
*
Come charge high, again, boy, nor
let the full wine Leave a space in the brimmer, where
daylight may shine; Here's the friends of our youth
tho' of some we're bereft,
63
May the links that are lost but endear what are left.
Come, once more, a bumper! then
drink as you please, Tho' who could fill half-way to toasts
such as these? Here's our next joyous meeting
" and, oh, when we meet, May our wine be as bright and our
union as sweet!
Come, send round the wine, and leave points of belief To simpleton sages and
reasoning fools; This moment's a flower too fair and brief, To be wither'd and
stain'd by the dust of the schools:
64
Your glass may be purple, and mine may be blue, But while they are fill'd
from the same bright bowl, The fool, who would quarrel for difference of hue,
Deserves not the comfort they shed o'er the soul.
*
Drain the cup Friend, art afraid? Spirits are laid In the Red Sea. Mantle
it up; Empty it yet; Let us forget, Round the old tree.
*
Fill the bumper fair; Every drop we sprinkle
65
O'er the brow of care, Smooths away a wrinkle.
%
Flow, thou regal purple stream Tinted by the solar beam, In my goblet
sparkling rise, Cheer my heart and glad my eyes. My brain ascend on fancy's
wing, VNoint me, wine, a jovial king. While I live, I'll lave my clay: When I'm
dead and gone away, Let my thirsty subjects say, " A month he reign'd, but that
was May."
* Here's a health to you, Father O'Flynn, Slainthe, and slainthe and slainthe
again, Powerfullest preacher, and tenderest
teacher And kindliest creature in ould Donegal.
66
Here's to ale: it is meat, drink and cloth: it will make a cat speak and a
wise man dumb.
I hope you are all here to do honor to the toast. As many of ye as is present
will say " Here! " and as many of ye as is not present will say "Absent!"
I know thou lovest a brimming measure, And art a kindly, cordial host; But
let me fill and drink at pleasure Thus I enjoy the goblet most.
*
I should be glad to drink your honor's health in a pot of beer, if you will
give me sixpence.
67
I drink the good health of " Of ten-
Who-Came." Who often comes not, I also must
name. Who often comes not, I also must
blame That he comes not as often as
" Often-Who-Came."
*
Irish whiskey: the genuine mountain dew.
Let schoolmasters puzzle their brain With grammar and nonsense and learning;
Good liquor, 1 stoutly maintain, Gives genius a better discerning.
*
Let Bacchus's sons be not dismayed, But join with me each jovial blade;
68
Come booze and sing, and lend your aid To help me with the chorus Instead
of Spa we'll drink brown
ale, And pay the reckoning on the
nail, No man for debt shall go to jail From Garryowen in glory!
?t
Let the farmer praise his grounds, Let the huntsman praise his hounds,
The shepherd his dew-scented lawn, But I, more blest than they, Spend each
happy night and day
With my charming little cruiscin Ian, Ian, lฃn,
My charming little cruiscin Ian.
Gradh mo chroidhe mo cruiscin, Slainte geal mo mhuirnin.
Is gradh mo chroidhe a cuilin ban.
69
Gr&dh mo chroidhe mo cruiscin, Slainte geal mo mhuirin,
Is gradh mo chroidhe a cuilin, ban, ban,
Is gradh mo chroidhe a cuilin ban.
Immortal and divine, Great Bacchus, God of wine,
Create me by adoption your son; In hope that you'll comply, My glass shall
ne'er run dry,
Nor my smiling little cruiscin Ian, Ian,
My smiling little cruiscin Ian, etc.
And when grim Death appears, In a few but pleasant years,
To tell me that my glass has run; I'll say, Begone, you knave, For bold
Bacchus gave me lave
To take another criiiscin Ian, Ian, Ian, Ian,
Another little cruiscin Ian, etc.
70
Then fill your glasses high,
Let's not part with lips adry,
Though the lark now proclaims it is dawn;
And since we can't remain,
May we shortly meet again,
To fill another cruiscin Ian, Ian, Ian, To fill another cruiscin Ian, etc.
" *.
Long life to the man that invented potheen, Sure the Pope ought to make him a
martyr. If myself was this moment the King or the Queen I'd dhrink nothing but
whiskey and wather!
Man wants but little here below Nor wants that little long
7i
Mark how it sleeps in its deep placid
purity, Not a brain-madd'ning wild bead on the top of it. Look at it, emblem
of health and security Slainte doibh uille there's health in each drop of
it. Health to you all.
ts
May lasting joys attend the boys Who love the land that bore us,
Still may they share such friendly fare As this that spreads before us.
*
May Venus's Myrtle ever be entwined with the Vine of Bacchus.
Ye sons of Anacreon, be joined hand in hand,
72
Preserve unanimity, friendship, and
love, For 'tis yours to support what's so
happily plann'd, You've the sanction of Gods and the
fiat of Jove.
While thus we agree, Our toasts let it be: " May our Club flourish, happy,
united
and free, And long may the Sons of Anacreon
entwine The Myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's Vine."
May we never want a friend in need, or a bottle to give him ! !
%
Observe, when Mother Earth is dry She drinks the droppings of the sky,
73
And then the dewy cordial gives To every thirsty plant that lives. The vapors
which at evening weep Are beverage to the swelling deep; And when the rosy sun
appears He drinks the ocean's misty tears. The moon too quaffs her paly stream
Cf lustre from the solar beam. Then hence with all your sober think-
Since Nature's holy law is drinking, I'll make the law of Nature mine, And
pledge the Universe in wine.
*
Of lives we have but one as far as I can
see; Then speed the joyous hour with song
and gayety, Let fellowship abound, throw sorrow
to the wind, Let not a care be found, and throw
misery all behind.
74
Pour deep the rosy wine and drink a
toast with me: Here's to the three: Thee, Wine
and Camaraderie!
Once more fill a bumper never talk
of the hour, O'er hearts thus united old Time has no
power. May our lives, tho' alas! like the
wine of to-night, They must soon have an end, to the
last flow as bright!
*
One bumper at parting! though many Have circled the board since we met,
The fullest, the saddest of any, Remains to be crowned by us yet.
The sweetness that pleasure has in it, Is always so slow to come forth,
75
That seldom, alas! till the minute It dies, do we know half its worth!
But oh! may our life's happy measure Be all of such moments made up,
They're born on the bosom of pleasure, They die in the tears of the cup.
v
. Paddy O'Blarney's foast Arrah, may we live all the days of our lives.
Press the grape and let it pour Around the board its purple shower, And,
while the drops my goblet steep, I'll think in woe the clusters weep. Weep on,
weep on, my pouting vine, Heaven grant no tears but tears of
wine, Weep on! and as thy sorrows flow I'll taste the luxury of woe.
76
Saint Patrick was a gentleman
Who, through strategy and stealth, Drove all the snakes from Ireland
Here's a bumper to his health. But not too many bumpers,
Lest we lose ourselves, and then Forget the good St. Patrick
And see the snakes again!
Hi
Say, why did Time his glass sublime
Fill up with sands unsightly, When wine he knew runs brisker through
And sparkles far more brightly? Oh, lend it us, and smiling thus,
The glass in two we'd sever, Make pleasure glide in double tide,
And fill both ends for ever! Then wreath the bowl with flowers of soul,
The brightest wit can find us;
77
We'll take a flight toward heaven tonight, And leave dull earth behind us!
*
Serenely full, the epicure would say, Fate cannot harm me, I have dined
today.
So fill to the brim, and heme's to him Who'd drink in punch the Solway;
With debts galore, but fun far more, Oh, that's " the man for Galway."
So we, Sages, sit, And 'mid bumpers brightening, From the Heaven of Wit Draw
down all its lightning.
Success to the green! faith, we'll stand by it still!
78
The best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the
night, my dear.
The fountains drink caves subterrene, The rivulets drink the fountains dry;
Brooks drink those rivulets again, ,
And then some river gliding by;
Until some gulping sea drink them,
And ocean drinks up that again.
Of ocean then does drink the sky;
When having brewed it into rain, The earth with drink it does supply,
And plants do drink up that again. When turned to liquor in the vine, 'Tis
our turn next to drink the wine.
By this who does not plainly see How into our throats at once is hurled
5Q
Whilst merrily we drinking be
The quintessence of all the world? Whilst all drink then in land, air, sea,
Let us too drink as well as they.
%
The four drinks the drink for thirst, the drink without thirst, the drink
for fear of thirst, and the drink ai. the door.
*ป
The friends, the very best I saw While through the land a rover,
Were brandy, ale and usquebaugh Of claret I'm no lover.
*■
The Irishman loves his " whiskey straight,"
Because it gives him dizziness. The American has no choice at all,
So he drinks the whole-----business.
80
The Pope he leads a happy life, He knows no cares nor marriage strife; He
drinks the best of Rhenish wine I would the Pope's gay lot were mine.
But yet not happy in his life He loves no maid or wedded wife, Nor child
hath he to cheer his hope I would not wish to be the Pope.
The Sultan better pleases me, He leads a life of jollity, Has wives as many
as he will I would the Sultan's throne then fill.
But yet he's not a happy man He must obey the Alcoran, And dares not taste
one drop of wine I would not that his lot were mine.
So here I take my lowly stand, I'll drink my own, my native land; I'll kiss
my maiden's lips divine, And drink the best of Rhenish wine.
81
Ana when my maiden kisses me I'll fancy I the Sultan be; And when my cheering
glass I tope I'll fancy then I am the Pope.
Then fill the bowl away with care, Our joys shall always last, For hope
shall lighten days to come And memory gild the past.
" Then here goes another," says he,
" to make sure, For there's luck in odd numbers," says
Rory O'More.
There's never a bond old friend like this,
We have drunk from the same canteen.
82
This cup's flowing measure
I toast to that treasure,
The brave man whose pleasure
Is quaffing rich wine. Who deep flagons draining From quarrels abstaining The
morn finds remaining
All joyous divine.
H
This lesson oft in life I sing,
And from my grave I still shall cry,
Drink, mortal, drink, while time is
young, Ere death has made thee old as I.
*
Though deep, yet clear; though gentle,
yet not dull; Strong without rage; without o'er-
flowing full.
ft?
Thus circling the cup hand in hand, ere we drink Let sympathy pledge us
through pleasure, through pain, That fast as a feeling but touches one
link Her magic shall send it direct through the chain.
%
To All Friends at Home or Abroad
Let others delight in the days that are fled,
And boast of the revels their forefathers led;
Whilst of present enjoyments more wisely we'll talk,
And laugh, joke and sing, as we draw forth the cork.
We saw how the sun looked sinking, The waters beneath him how bright,
84
And now let our farewell of drinking
Resemble that farewell of light. You saw how he finished by darting
His beam o'er a deep billow's brim So fill up, let's shine at our parting,
In full, liquid glory like him. And oh! may our life's happy measure
Of moments like this be made up; It was born on the bosom of pleasure,
It dies 'mid the tears of the cup.
*
When Saint Patrick this order established, He called us the " Monks of the
Screw; " Good rules he revealed to our Abbot To guide us in what we should do;
But first he replenished our fountain
With liquor the best in the sky; And he said, on the word of a saint, That
the fountain should never run dry.
85
Each year, when your octaves approach, In full chapter convened let me find
you; And when to the Convent you come, Leave your favorite temptation behind
you. And be not a glass in your Convent,
l5hless on a festival found; And, this rule to enforce, I ordain it One
festival all the year round.
My brethren, be chaste, till you're tempted;
While sober, be grave and discreet; And humble your bodies with fasting,
As oft as you've nothing to eat. Yet, in honor of fasting, one lean face
Among you I'd always require; If the Abbot should please, he may wear it,
If not, let it come to the Prior.
86
Come, let each take his chalice, my brethren, And with due devotion prepare,
With hands and with voices uplifted, Our hymn to conclude with prayer. May this
chapter oft joyously meet, And this gladsome libation renew, To the Saint, and
the Founder, and. Abbot, And Prior, and Monks of the Screw!
Where is the heart that would not give Years of drowsy days and nights, One
little hour like this to live Full to the brim of life's delight?
%
Whiskey, drink divine!
Why should drivellers bore us With the praise of wine
While we've thee before us?
87
Were it not a shame,
Whilst we gaily fling thee
To our lips of flame,
If we could not sing thee?
Whiskey, drink divine, etc.
Gre^k and Roman sung
Chian and Falernian Shall no harp be strung
To thy praise, Hibernian? Yes! let Erin's sons
Generous, brave, and frisky Tell the world at once
They owe it to their whiskey
Whiskey, drink divine, etc.
If Anacreon who
Was the grape's best poet Drank our mountain-dew
How his verse would show it!
88
As the best then known,
He to wine was civil; Had he Inishowen,
He'd pitch wine to the devil
Whiskey, drink divine, etc.
Bright as beauty's eye,
When no sorrow veils it: Sweet as beauty's sigh,
When young love inhales it: Come, then, to my lips
Come, thou rich in blisses! Every drop I sip
Seems a shower of kisses
Whiskey, drink divine, etc.
Could my feeble lays Half thy virtues number,
A whole grove of bays
Should my brows encumber.
89
Be his name adored,
Who summoned up thy merits In one little word,
When we call thee spirits
Whiskey, drink divine, etc.
Send it gaily round
Life would be no pleasure, If we had not found
This enchanting treasure: And when tyrant death's
Arrow shall transfix ye, Let your latest breaths
Be whiskey! whiskey! whiskey!
Whiskey, drink divine, etc.
*
Ye good fellows all,
Who love to be told where good
claret's in store, Attend to the call
90
Of one who's ne'er frighted, But greatly delighted
With six bottles more. Be sure you don't pass The good house, Moneyglass,
Which the jolly red god so peculiarly owns, 'Twill well suit your humor
For, pray, what would you more,
Than mirth with good claret, and bumpers, Squire Jones?
H
Within this goblet, rich and deep, I cradle all my woes to sleep.
%
Your health, my friend! till life shall end
May no bad chance betide us; Oh, may we still, our grief to kill,
Have drink like this beside us!
9i
MISCELLANEOUS TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS
A fig for your new-fashioned waltzes Imported from Spain and from France,
And a fig for the thing called the polka, Our own Irish jig we will dance.
An Irishman, may he always eat his potatoes without peel.
*
An Irishman in France, drin'dng in company with one who proposed the toast "
The Land we live in," responded, " Ay, with all my sowl, me jewel; Here's to
poor ould Ireland."
%
And often and often I'm longing still, This gay and golden weather,
For my father's face by an Irish hill And he and I together.
95
And when we drain the golden cup To them, to those we ne'er can see,
With wine of hope we'll fill it up And drink to days that yet may be.
And there whence there's never returning When we travel as travel we must
May the gates be all free for our journey And the tears of our friends lay the
dust.
Brother Pat, may he be as always triumphant in love and in war.
%
" Caed mille failthe."
A hundred thousand welcomes.
96
God save us from
A slow foot steed, a hound run wild, An unwise lord who breeds but strife
And a wife who bears no child.
*
" God scatters her sons like seed on the
lea, And they root where they fall, be it
mountain or furrow; They come to remain and remember;
and she In their growth will rejoice in a blissful
to-morrow."
Good luck to you, doA scorn the poor, and don't be their despiser,
For worldly wealth soon melts away, and cheats the very miser.
97
Hame, what's hame?
A wee short word o' letters four,
But frae the store 0' langest word that tongue can claim, Nane's got, I wis,
Sic power an Irish heart to touch,
Nane hauds in meanin' half as much As this.
Health to my body, wealth to my purse, Heaven to my soul, and I wish you no
worse.
Here's to Mavourneen and Erin-go-
bragh! The Dutch make the beer, but I keep
up the law. The Germans are all right in war and
in peace, But, b'gorry! it takes the Irish to make
good police.
98
Here's a sigh to those who love me And a smile to those who hate,
And whatever sky's above me Here's a heart for any fate.
*
Here's to poetry, the eldest sister of all arts and the parent of most.
%
Here's to the bridge that carries us over.
Here's to the ould Fifty-ninth, th' last in the field and the first to lave
it! No, that's wrong Here's to th' ould Fifty-ninth, aquil to none!
%
Ho! stand to your glasses steady! 'Tis all we have to prize. A cup to the
dead already, Hurrah for the next that dies!
99
I drink as the fates ordain it,
Come fill it, and have done with rhymes;
Fill up the glass and drain it In memory of dear old times.
St
If wishing damns us, you and I Are damn'd to all our heart's content; Come
then, at least we may enjoy " Some pleasure for our punishment.
Irelands bards from O'Carolan to Tom Moore.
V
Irish generosity, warmth of heart and kind bravery.
us
Irish hearts and English hearts: may they ever beat in unison together.
IOO
Irish hospitality and bravery.
Leave Business to Idlers and Wisdom to Fools; they have need of 'em; Wit be
my faculty, Pleasure my Occupation and let Father Time Shake his Glass.
Liberty all over the world and everywhere else!
May good fortune follow you all your life (and never catch up with you).
May Thady eat his potatoes in peace and quietness.
%
May we follow in our good fathers' steps and never get into a bog.
IOI
May we never hear the cuckoo, when we have an empty stomach, see the first
snail on a bare stone, or a black ram with its hinder parts towards us.
May we never quarrel from difference of creed.
%
Come, send round the wine, and leave points of belief To simpleton sages, and
reasoning fools; This moment's a flower too fair and too brief, To be wither'd
and stain'd by the dust of the schools. Your glass may be purple, and mine may
be blue, But, while they are fill'd from the same bright bowl,
102
The fool, who would quarrel for difference of hue, Deserves not the comfort
they shed o'er the soul.
Shall I ask the brave soldier, who fights by my side In the cause of mankind,
if our creeds do agree? Shall I give up the friend I have valued and tried, If
he kneel not before the same altar with me? From the heretic girl of my soul
shall I
fly,
To seek somewhere else a more orthodox kiss? No! perish the hearts, and the
laws that may try
Truth, valour, or love, by a standard like this.
May you live all the days of your life. 103
May you never be without a caubeen, a threeheen, and a sligeen.
May you never burn your coal without warming yourself.
%
Must we part? Well, if we must we must and in
that case The less is said the better.
%
0 thou that blest the loaves and fishes, Look down upon these two poor
dishes, And tho' the murphies are but small, 0 make them large enough for all,
For if they do our bellies fill I'm sure it is a miracle.
104
Ucn, you and only you, Soggarth aroon!
IS
Pat may be foolish, and sometimes
very wrong, Pat has a temper, which don't last very
long, Pat is full of jollity, that everybody
knows, And you'll never find a coward, where
the shamrock grows.
*
St. Patrick was a gentleman, and came of decent people; In Dublin town he
built a church and on't he put a steeple; His father was O'Houlihan, his mother
was a lady, His uncle was O'Shaughnessy, and his aunt a Widow Grady.
105
Then success to bold St. Patrick's fist, He was a saint so clever, He gave
the snakes and toads a twist, And banished them for ever!
Oh! Feltrim Hill is very high, so is the
* Hill of Howth, too, But there's a hill that is hard by, much
higher than them both too; 'Twas on the top of this high hill St.
Patrick preached a sarmin, He made the frogs skip thro' the bogs, and
banished all the varmin! Success, etc.
There's not a mile in Ireland's Isle where the dirty varmin musters;
Where'er he puts his dear fore-foot, he murdered them in clusters:
106
The toads went hop, the frogs went pop, slap-haste into the water,
And the snakes committed suicide to save themselves from slaughter. Success,
etc.
Nine hundred thousand vipers blue he
charmed with sweet discourses, And dined on the n at Killaloe, in soups
and second courses; When blind-worms crawling on the
grass disgusted the whole nation, He gave them a rise, and opened their
eyes to a sense of their situation. Success, etc.
Oh, then, should I be so fortunate as to
get back to Munster, Sure I'll be bound that from that
ground I ne'er again will once stir; 'Twas there St. Patrick planted turf,
and plenty of the praties,
107
With pigs galore, machree asthore! and buttermilk and ladies! Success, etc.
No wonder that we Irish lads should be
so free and frisky, Since St. Patrick taught us first the
knack of drinking of good
whiskey; 'Twas he that brew'd the best of malt,
and understood distilling, For his mother she kept a shebeen shop
in the town of Inniskillen! Oh, success, etc.
%
Should he by chance a Knave or Fool
expose, That hurts none here, sure here are
none of those.
108
Spirits, my lads, and toast away, I have still one with yours to join,
That you may have enough to pay; This is my toast, now give me thine.
The blessed fruit That grows at the root Is the real gold Of Ireland.
The Irish Anacreon, the bard of Bacchus and Love, Tom Moore.
*
The Irish piper who plays the same tune night and morning.
%
The newspapers the most villainous licentious abominable in-
109
feraal Not that I ever read them No I make it a rule never to 100k into
a newspaper!
*
The Press Here's to all the success it deserves.
To the Informer
May his cradle ne'er rock, may his box have no lock, May his wife have no
frock for to cover her back, May his cock never crow, may his bellows ne'er
blow, And his pipe and his pot, may he ever more lack.
*
Then, oh! when round the Christmas board, or by the Christmas hearth,
no
That glorious mingled draught is poured, wine, melody and mirth
When friends long absent tell, low-toned, their joys and sorrows o'er,
And hand grasps hand, and eyelids fill, and lips meet lips once more
In that bright hour, perhaps perhaps, some woman's voice would say
" Think think, on those who weep tonight, poor exiles, far away."
*
Your voice has the music of spirit-land To the heart of an Irishman,
For magic, and tears and joy are there, A Roshin bhinn na'ndhan! (Melodious
rose of the poem.)
THE END. Ill