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They came by day, they came by night,
At last they made a bevy quite

Of guests the most delighted,
To enjoy the life of the nobleman's house,
After the shooting of pheasant or grouse.


The host began to wonder now,

As in he saw them fall;
By the powers—they ’re more than I thought I vow,

What shall I do with them all ?
I'm shortish of room-but the wisest plan
Is to pig them together as well as I can ;
And they cannot very much grumble, I think,
If I give them abundance to eat and to drink-

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,
Did n't come all by himself, like a brute,

As if devoid of knowledge ;

No-he brought his servant to carry his bag,
Polish his gun off, and curry his nag ;

And attentively see

How he took his degree
At his Lordship’s hunting college !

And so
It was very hard work indeed to know
How and where the servants to stow ;
For it's true-although sometimes a disaster-
That a man must sleep sometimes as well as his


However, by dint of managing well,
The good Lord had settled for servant and swell ;
And with some in the kitchen, and some in the shed,

'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—
But the vassals now puzzle their brains without end,

And still they have not detected
A hole or corner wherein to cast
Dennis—the man of the boy that came last.

Soft, soft!
They have it now,

There's the little hayloft

Any how;
And Dennis can lay

Along with the hay,
Where he could n't be found if they sought for him ;

And there, an' he please,

He can double his knees,
If the place should appear too short for him!


Eh! what! ho!

Why, here's a go;
There's another gentleman's horse-gee wo!
Those at the door they hear the stop of him,
And well they know the rider a-top of him ;
The stalwart, hale, magnificent figure,

Of my Lord's American cousin ;
And with him a black “Remarkable Nigger,"

One of a hundred dozen.


Here the bewildered servants shout,
“ What shall we do with Smutty-Snout?

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,
Although they are not Arcades ambo !

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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
Might be, in default of better resource,
To sleep over the stable and over the horse,

In the hay, along with Paddy!
The matter is very soon settled and done ;
Two must sleep in the hayloft, instead of one !


My Lord is full of revelry,

His guests have had their sport;
And in his jolly sporting-box

Old Bacchus holds his court:
He holds his court where nobles dine,

And quaff until they fall ;

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