After reading this list and nearly dying of laughter I was inspired to write this song. It combines whaling, murder, whiskey, and of course rebellion into one happy little tune -- all the cliches I could find in the list. So sorry for inflicting this on you, I just want to post it before the creative urge leaves me. Tried to follow the rules here -- I think a new one should be that all placenames have to end with '-O'. Another thing I've noticed -- and tried to use here -- is that rhyming is -never- perfect in an Irish song. Anyone else noticed this?

Jennifer

The Whiskey, the Girl, and the Rebel

My name is O'Reilly, I'm a sailor of yore
I've sailed for the whales from the far western shore
'Twas on May thirty in nineteen sixteen
I joined the bold rebels with their whiskey so keen

My dearest love Sally said "Do not ye go,"
"To the wilds and the mountains of Ireland-O"
"But I must go," I cried, "for my captain so lean"
"Has fled to the rebels, with their whiskey so keen."

My Captain I'd met him in Botany Bay
I found him while wanderin', on a cold wintry day
He cried, "I want a sailor for to hunt on the main"
He signed me and fed me with whiskey so keen

So long years I've traveled now, far on the seas
Beaten and bitten, by the cat and the fleas
So I've gone to Dublin, where me love Sally Breen
Cannot hold me back from the whiskey so keen

Sally cried, "Willie, I pray ye, don't go,"
'Tis treason and murder, tae hell ye will go,"
I said, "You are a Briton and I'm Irish Free,"
"I'll slay you and drink of the whiskey so keen."

She cried, "Dearest Willie don't murder me dead,"
A raven it came to me shoulder in dread.
She gazed at the raven as I drew my knife keen
"I'll come back to haunt you, o'er your whiskey so keen."

Well, Sally was right and her ghost came for me
Wi' blood on her fingers, her breast and her knees
And her ghost's sad screaming, the moans and the keens
It drove me to drinkin' the whiskey so keen

I fled to the mountains, the eyries so high
And fought 'gainst the British for proud liberty
I've killed me some Tommies, but was captured in green
And now I will die without whiskey so keen

And now as I stand here, o'er gallows so high
And wait for to hang, twixt the earth and the sky
Well, I wish I'd listened, tae Sally o' Breen,
For ne'er more will I sip from the whiskey so keen.

I hope this comes out OK and readable. Don't think it was too bad for a Yiddish-American.

Jennifer