"The Bobbed Hair" ("The Mount Calland Garland," collected and edited by Tom Munnelly)

THE BOBBED HAIR

I feel depressed and sad tonight; my heart is filled with woe,
Since I met my Biddy darling when we parted long ago.
I remember when we parted how the sun came shining down
On that fair and handsome creature and her lovely locks of brown.

When I met her I was horrified; I could not understand
What made her locks so ugly now that once was sweet and grand.
I gazed in silent wonder; yes, I looked and looked again.
My heart near burst asunder when I found she had bobbed her hair.

I said: "Biddy dear, what happened you, that you looked so neat and trim,
The night we kissed and parted in the road near Corofin?"
I asked her why she had shorn her locks; she smiled and made a bow,
And the answer that she made was: "'Tis all the fashion now."

Ah, to see my darling's hair, too, it was a lovely sight,
And although 'tis hard to make me cry, I shed some tears that night.
Before we left I asked her how this bobbing first began.
"Some years ago," she said, "you know, 'twas done by Black and Tans!"

Oh farewell, dear Bid; I'm clear fed up; there is no bobbed hair for me.
Our partnership we must dissolve; I'm horrified to see
The locks that nature gave to thee, oh, just for fashion's sake
Clipped off, and now your neck is bare, like Paddy McGinty's drake.

Of course I know the times have changed, but I'll allow for that,
And shingled hair looks horrible beneath a nice new hat,
And why don't fashions doff the shawls our grannies used to wear?
Some has done it still and always will but they have not bobbed their hair.

The ass brays in a strong protest and swears he will not move,
And goats upon the mountains bleat that fashions may improve.
The swallows are about to leave; no more we'll see the hare,
And stalks are burned with the blight since the women bobbed their hair.