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They came by day, they came by night,
Of guests the most delighted,
The host began to wonder now,
As in he saw them fall;
What shall I do with them all ?
Which, by Jabers, I will,
They shall all have their fill, While there's mate in the pot, or potheen in the still.
Now everybody that came to shoot,
As if devoid of knowledge ;
No-he brought his servant to carry his bag,
And attentively see
How he took his degree
However, by dint of managing well,
'T was clear every guest
Would have some place of rest, There was no fear of any one's wanting a bed !
But one day, after a run very fine,
All the boys had come in to dine,
And were jollificating away at the board
Of this Irish hospitality-lord, When up rode another guest with his man ; What shall they do with them ?—just what they can!
My lord, he finds a place for his friend,
On a sofa long neglected—
And still they have not detected
There's the little hayloft
Along with the hay,
And there, an' he please,
He can double his knees,
Eh! what! ho!
Why, here's a go;
Of my Lord's American cousin ;
One of a hundred dozen.
Here the bewildered servants shout,
What shall we do with Sambo ?” They know my Lord's cousin is safe for a perch, And they dare not leave his man in the lurch :
Master and swell
Must be treated well,
At last they bethink them, as well as they're able, Again of the hayloft over the stable ;
For they deemed of the Nigger, that glad he
In the hay, along with Paddy!
My Lord is full of revelry,
His guests have had their sport;
Old Bacchus holds his court:
And quaff until they fall ;