Tag Archives: Samuel Lover

The Widow McCarthy by Samuel Lover

Oh, have you not heard of McCarty,
Who lived in Tralee, good and hearty?
He had scarce lived two score, when death
came to his door
And made a widdy of Mrs. McCarty.

Near by lived one Paddy McManus,
Why by the way was a bit of a genius;
At his trade he was good, cuttin’ figures of
wood,
Says he: I’ll go see the widdy McCarty.

Now Paddy, you know, was no ninny,
He agreed for a couple of guineas,
To cut out a stick the dead image of Micky,
And take it home to widdy McCarty.

As the widdy she’d sit by the fire
Every night before she’d retire,
She’d take the stick that was dead, put it
into bed,
And lay down by the wooden McCarty.

Now Pat wasn’t long to discover
That the widdy was wanting a lover;
He made love to her strong, and you’ll say
he wasn’t wrong,
For in three days he wed the widdy McCarty.

Their friends for to see them long tarried;
To bet Pat and the widdy they carried;
She took up the stick that was cut for Micky,
And under the bed shoved wooden McCarty.

In the mornin’ when Paddy was risin’
He wanted somethin’ to set the fire blazin’;
Says she: “If you’re in want of a stick, just
cut a slice off Micky,
For I’m done with my wooden McCarty.

Written by Samuel Lover.

Kitty Tyrell by Samuel Lover

You’re looking as fresh as the morn,
Darling,
You’re looking as bright as the day ;
But while on your charms I’m dilating
You’re stealing my poor heart away.
But keep it and welcome, mavourneen,
It’s loss I’m not going to mourn;
Yet one heart’s enough for a body,
So, pray give me yours in return;
Mavourneen, mavourneen,
O, pray, give me yours in return.

I’ve built me a neat little cot, darling,
I’ve pigs and potatoes in store;
I’ve twenty good pounds in the bank, love,
And may be a pound or two more.
It’s all very well to have riches,
But I’m such a covetous elf,
I can’t help sighing for something,
And darling that something’s yourself;
Mavourneen, mavourneen,
And that something, you know, is
Yourself.

You’re smiling, and that’s a good sign darling,
Say “yes,” and you’ll never repent ;
Or, if you would rather be silent
Your silence I’ll take for consent.
That good-natured dimple’s a tell-tale,
Now all that I have is your own ;
This week you’ll be Kitty Tyrell,
Next week you’ll be Mistress Malone;
Mavourneen, mavourneen,
You’ll be my own Mistress Malone.

The Low Backed Car

When first I saw sweet Peggy,
‘Twas on a market day,
A low-backed car she drove, and sat
Upon a truss of hay;
But when that hay was blooming grass,
And decked with flowers of Spring,
No flow’r was there that could compare
With the blooming girl I sing.
As she sat in her low-backed car –
The man at the turnpike bar
Never asked for the toll,
But just rubbed his owld poll
And looked after the low-backed car.

In battle’s wild commotion,
The proud and mighty Mars,
With hostile scythes, demands his tithes
Of death – in warlike cars;
While Peggy, peaceful goddess,
Has darts in her bright eye,
That knock men down, in the market town,
As right and left they fly –
While she sits in her low-backed car,
Than battle more dangerous far –
For the doctor’s art,
Cannot cure the heart
That is hit from that low-backed car.

Sweet Peggy, round her car, sir,
Has strings of ducks and geese,
BUT the scores of hearts she slaughters
By far out-number these;
While she among her poultry sits,
Just like a turtle dove,
Well worth the cage, I do engage,
Of the blooming god oflove!
While she sits in her low-backed car,
The lovers come near and far,
And envy the chicken
That Peggy is pickin’,
As she sits in her low-backed car.

0, I’d rather own that car, sir,
With Peggy, by my side,
Than a coach-and-four and gold galore,
And a lady for my bride;
For the lady would sit forninst me,
On a cushion made with taste,
While Peggy would sit beside me
With my arm around her waist –
While we drove in the low-backed car,
To be married by Father Maher,
Oh, my heart would beat high
At her glance and her sigh –
Though it beat in a low-backed car.