THE GALBALLY FARMER. One evening of late as I happened to stray, To the county Tipp'rary I straight took my way, To dig the potatoes and work by the day, I hired with a Galbally farmer. I asked him how far we were bound for to go. The night it was dark, and the north wind did blow. I was hungry and tired and my spirits were low, For I got neither whiskey nor cordial. This niggardly miser he mounted his steed To the Galbally mountains he posted with speed; And surely I thought that my poor heart would bleed To be trudging behind that old naygur. When we came to his cottage I entered it first; It seemed like a kennel or ruined old church: Says I to myself, "I am left in the lurch In the house of old Darby O Leary." I well recollect it was Michaelmas night, To a hearty good supper he did me invite, A cup of sour milk that would physic a snipe— 'Twould give you the trotting disorder. The wet old potatoes would poison the cats, The barn where my bed was was swarming with rats, 'Tis little I thought it would e'er be my lot To lie in that hole until morning. By what he had said to me I understood, My bed in the barn it was not very good; The blanket was made at the time of the flood; The quilt and the sheets in proportion. 'Twas on this old miser I looked with a frown, When the straw was brought out for to make my shake down. I wished that I never saw Galbally town, Or the sky over Darby O Leary. I worked in Kilconnell, I worked in Kilmore, I worked in Knockainy and Shanballymore, In Pallas-a-Nicker and Sollohodmore, With decent respectable farmers: I worked in Tipperary, the Rag, and Rosegreen, At the mount of Kilfeakle, the Bridge of Aleen, But such woeful starvation I never yet seen As I got from old Darby O Leary. —from More Irish Street Ballads by Colm O Lochlainn (Dublin: The Three Candles, 1965), page 114.
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