This one should be in the DT.
Bye bye

Ezio, Italy
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THE COW ATE THE PIPER
(Traditional Irish)

In the year of ninety-eight, when our troubles were great,
'Twas treason to be a Milesian.
I will never forget the big black-whiskered set
That the history books will tell us were Hessians.
In these troublesome times, there was all sort of crimes,
For murder it was never rifer.
At the hill of Glencree, not an acre from me,
Lived the old bold Denny Byrnes, the piper.

Neither wedding nor wake was worth an old shake,
Unless Denny was first invited,
For at squeezing the bags or emptying kegs
He astonished as well as delighted.
In these days, poor Denny could not earn a penny.
The law had a sting like a viper,
And it kept him within till his bones and his skin
Were a-grin through the rags of the piper.

One heavenly night with the moon shining bright,
Comin' back from the fair of Rathangan,
What should he see, from the branch of a tree
But the corpse of a Hessian there hanging.
Says Denny, "These rogues have fine boots. I've no brogues",
And he laid on the heels such a griper.
They were so gallus-tight, and he pulled with such might,
Legs and boots came away with the piper.

He picked up the legs and he took to his pegs,
Then he got to Tim Kavanagh's cabin.
"Be the powers," says Tim, "sure I can't let you in.
You'll be shot if you're caught out there rappin'."
He went round to the shed, where the cow was in bed,
With a wisp he began for to wipe her,
And they lay down together on the seven-foot heather,
And the cow fell a-hugging the piper.

Next morning soon dawned. Denny got up and yawned,
Then pulled up the boots of the Hessian.
The legs, be the law! he flung in the straw,
And he gave them leg-bail on his mission.
The breakfast being done, Tim sent out his son
To get Denny up, like a lamplighter.
When the legs there he saw, he roared like a daw:
"Ah Daddy! The cow ate the Piper!"

"Sweet bad luck to the baste! She'd a musical taste
To eat such wonderful chanter.
Here Padraic, avic, take this lump of a stick.
Take her of to Glenealy. We'll cant her."
The neighbours were called. Mrs Kavanagh bawled.
They began for to humbug and jibe her.
To the graveyard she walks with the legs in a box,
Crying out, "We'll be hanged for the piper!"

The cow was then drove just a mile or two off,
Till they got to the fair of Glenealy.
There the craythur was sold for four guineas in gold
To the clerk of the parish, Tim Daly.
They went into a tent and the luck-penny spent,
(For the clerk was a woeful old swiper).
Who the devil was there, playing "The rakes of Kildare"?
The bold Denny Byrnes, the piper!

Tim gave a bolt like a half-broken colt.
At the piper he stared like a gommach.
Says he, "Be the powers, sure I thought these eight hours
You were playing in old dhrimindhu's stomach."
And Danny observed how the Hessian he'd served,
And they all wished Nick's cure to the viper,
And for grà that they met and their whistles they wet,
And like devils they danced round the piper.

[Recorded by Oisin on "Bealoideas", Ossian Publications, Cork, Ireland, 1995 - previously issued on Tara label.]

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Note: This post was added to the Digital Tradition in April, 1997.
-Joe Offer-