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THE IRISH MAIL ROBBER It's adieu to old Ireland, the place where I was born, Near the county of Limerick, near the state of Glengall; Far away to some island, bound down like a slave, It was in my own country I did misbehave. It was my old father who did caution me, To leave off night walking, shun bad company; Saying, "Son, you are young and they'll lead you astray, You will think of these words when I'm cold in the clay." But to all his good advices I never gave care, And still I went on with my wicked career; 'Twas drinking and gambling by night and by day To maintain those rude "wimming"* and dress them up gay. I had not been long in this wicked career Before I was taken by the laws of the land; Was tried and found guilty of a mail robbery, And for ages transported across the salt sea. 'Tis now I'm safe landed on my own native shore, And looking around me I can see my cell door; And looking around me I can see my cell door, Which causes me to think of my mother once more. Oft times I have wondered why "wimming"* love men More times I have wondered why men should love them; They lead you to ruin and cause your downfall They'll cause you to sleep behind cold prison walls. * Women. From New Green Mountain Songster, DT #424 Laws L15 @Irish @crime @jail filename[ IRSHMAIL TUNE FILE: IRSHMAIL CLICK TO PLAY RG |
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