St. Patrick’s Martyrs

I wonder what the mischief was in her, for the mistress was niver contrairy,
But this same is just what she said to me, just as sure as me name is Mary:
“Mary,” says she, all a-smiling and swate-like, “the young ladies are coming from France,
And we’ll give them a welcome next Monday, with an illegant supper and dance.”

“Is it Monday ye’re maning?” says I; “ma’am, why, thin I’m sorry to stand in yet way,
But it’s little of work I’ll do Monday, seeing that Monday’s St. Patrick’s day;
And sure it’s meself that promised to go wid Cousin Kitty Malone’s brother Dan,
And bad luck to Mary Magee” says I, “If she disappoints such a swate young man!”

“Me children hev been away four years” – and she spoke in a very unfellin’ way –
“Ye cannot expect I shall disappoint them either for you or St. Patrick’s Day;
I know nothing about St. Patrick.” “That’s true for ye, ma’am, More’s the pity,” says I,
“For it’s niver the likes of ye has the luck to be born under the Irish sky.”

Ye see, I was gitting past jokin’ – and she sitting there so aisy and proud,
And me thinking of the Third Avenue, and the procession and music and crowd;
And it crossed me mind that minit consaring Thady Mulligan’s supper and dance;
Says I, “It’s not Mary Magee ma’am, that can stay for the ladies coming from France.”

“Mary,” says she, “two afternoons each week – ivery Wednesday and ivery Monday –
Ye’ve always had, besides yer early Mass, and yer Vispers ivery other Sunday,
And yer friends have visited me house, two or three of thim ivery night.”
“Indade thin,” says I. “That was nothin’ at all but ivery dacent girl’s ‘right’.”

“Very well, thin,” says she, “ye can lave the house and be sure to take wid ye yer ‘right’;
And if Michael and Nora think just as ye do, ye can all of ye lave tonight.”
So just for St. Patrick’s glory we wint ; and as sure as Mary Magee is me name,
It’s a house full of nagurs she’s got now ; which is the same as a sin and a shame.

Bad luck to them all! A poor body, I think, had need of a comfortable glass;
It’s a miserable time in Ameriky for a dacent Irish born lass
If she serves all the saints, and is kind to her friends, then she loses her home and her pay.
And there’s thousands of innocent martyrs, like me on ivery St. Patrick’s Day.

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