Lyr. Add: THE IRISH ROBBER

In Dublin City I was bred and born,
On Stephen's Green I died forlorn;
When first I learnt the Saddler's trade,
Was always called a roving blade.

At sixteen years I took a wife,
I lov'd her dearly as my life;
And to maintain her, fair and gay,
Lords, Dukes and earls, I did make pay.

For when my cash it did run low,
On the highway I was forc'd to go,
Where I robbed lords, and ladies bright,
And brought the gold to my heart's delight.

I never robbed a poor man yet,
Nor caused a poor man to fret;
But I robb'd the rich, and serv'd the poor,
Which has brought me to death's door.

Through Covent Garden, I stroll'd away,
With my sweet girl to see the play;
But Fielding's gang did me pursue,
Taken I was, by that cursed crew.

Now I am lost, condemm'd to die,
Many a fair maid for me doth cry;
But all their tears won't comfort me,
Nor save me from the fatal tree.

My father cries, I am undone!
My mother cries, O, darling son!
My blooming girl tears her golden hair,
Saying, where shall I flee? I'm in despair!

And now my passing bell doth toll,
The Lord have mercy on my soul;
Highwaymen, let my mourners be,
Give them Broadswords and liberty.

Six Dublin ladies, to bear my pall,
Give them white gowns, & pink ribbons all,
That they may say, and speak the truth,
There goes a bold, undaunted youth.

Printed by L. Deming, Boston, Mass., 19th c. (n. d.).
Printed in the United States, but copied from an English broadside, without cant language. Compare Newry Highwayman, Wild and Wicked Youth, etc. Last verse from The Unfortunate Rake, etc.
From American Memory. http://lcweb2.loc.gov/ammen/amhome.html