In vain, in farther climes,
  Athwart the sweeping sea,
We seek, in other times,
  The heaven we’ve lost in thee. 
O lily land of France,
  Farewell!  Farewell, Paris! 
Farewell to Life’s romance! 
  Welcome the sounding sea!

THE THREE P’S.

THE PRATIE, THE PIG AND POTEEN.

    ’Tis daily this baste
    Will prosade to the fayste,
The best that Ould Oireland has seen;
    The P’s are but three,
    But they’re plenty for me,—­
The Pratie, the Pig, the Poteen.

    The Pratie, in place,
    Has an iligant face,
That my mouth opens wide to let in,
    But, like Widow Machree,
    He’s so glad to see me,
That he laughs himself out of his shkin. 
    He’s so round and so square,
    As he laughs at me there,
That he looks loike my brother, I ween;
    Then I put him to cool
    On the top of a shtool,
Till I take a wee drop of Poteen. 
    Then I put him to cool
    On the top of a shtool,
Till I take a wee drop of Poteen.

But gourmands, ahoy! 
    The Pig is the Boy! 
Indade he’s the girl to my taste;
    The form is so nate,
    The lip is so swate,
That I kape her quite close to my waist. 
    But no cannibal I,
    When I look in her eye,
The loikes to my sister is seen;
    So I piously pause
    In the work of my jaws,
Till I take a wee drop of Poteen. 
    So I piously pause
    In the work of my jaws,
Till I take a wee drop of Poteen.

    Lave the Pratie to cool
    On the top of the shtool,
While we master this question of shtate,
    Shall I ate?  Shall I swig? 
    Musht Poteen or the Pig
Be the first or the last on my plate? 
    Now my grandfather’s ghost
    Appears at this post,
So solemn, so awful in mien,
    To assist and debate
    This question of shtate
On the subject of Pork and Poteen.

So he called for his mug,
    And I gave him the jug,
Which he placed at his delicate mouth,
    And he drank it all down,
    Down, down, Derry down,
He had such a terrible drouth. 
    Then, with jug held on high,
    And Poteen in his eye,
He says—­this good ghost says to me: 
    “Hist!  Hist!  Patrick, hist! 
    And hould ye your whist
While I shpake out this Scripture to thee.

    ’Tis Hibernian Law
    That, for Oireland’s ould jaw,
If, at pig-faystes, you ate, shpake or swig,
    If you have a great mind,
    You surely will find
The Poteen’s the best part of the Pig. 
    ’Tis Hibernian Law
    That, for Oireland’s ould jaw,
If, at pig-faystes, you ate, shpake or swig,
    If you have a great mind,
    You surely will find
The Poteen’s the best part of the Pig.”