Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A NEW SONG, by ROYALL TYLER


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A NEW SONG, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Come honies of congress, pray do not be smoking me
Last Line: You are bother'd from head to the tail.
Alternate Author Name(s): Old Simon; S.
Subject(s): Immigrants; Lyon, Matthew (1746-1822); Emigrant; Emigration; Immigration


To the tune of "O dear what can the matter be."
(As sung with applause at Congress Gardens.)

COME honies of Congress, pray do not be smoking me,
With your well borns, and ill borns, pray do not be poking me,
For what you call complaisance always is choking me;
If you know me, pray how should it fail:
For Och blood anouns, what can the matter be,
That Congress with high blood all should full fatten'd be;
O gramachree, you had better have rattan'd me;
I'm bother'd from head to the tail.

When first I bog trotted to Congress, dear Spaiker,
I thought a Rep, like a pig, was a liberty creature,
Who might nuzzle and grunt in his own pretty nature,
And quarrel like felons in jail;
But Och blood anouns, what can the matter be,
With breeding and complaisance thus to bespatter me,
And thus to be putting the gentleman after me,
I'm bother'd from head to the tail.

And as to this answer here to our ould President
Why can't we all carry it, while we are here resident?
For Fait, my politeness shall ne'er draw a precedent;
To the old fowl myself will turn tail;
For Och blood anouns, what can the matter be,
That to bow and to scrape you will so bespatter me,
And on both sides of the House thus to bother and batter me,
I'm bother'd, Fait, how should I fail.

With your high blood and well born, pray do no more rack us;
But hear that sweet soul, honest Horace O'Flaccus,
Who says that good blood will most damnably thwack us,
Och honies, O how should it fail!
But Och blood anouns what can the matter be,
That Congress with high blood should thus all fatten'd be?
O gramachree, you had better have ratten'd me;
I'm bother'd from head to the tail.

Here is I my nown self, who was born of my mother,
A hale hearty wench, and my father's another,
Whose blood ran as low as the wash of a gutter;
Och honies, O how should it fail!
That Och blood anouns, what can the matter be,
That with your high blood you still will bespatter me;
I fear my dear blarneys you are after to flatter me;
I'm bother'd from head to the tail.

My father ne'er hang'd a witch of a woman,
Or beat a poor baiste, who made Sunday common,
For why, his own self was tuck'd up at Roscommon,
Och honies, O how should he fail!
But Och blood anouns what can the matter be
That with ould Noll Cromwell you will thus bespatter me
And give me more daddies than ever went after me;
I'm bother'd from head to the tail.

Did you know how I fought on the sweet Onion river,
It would cause all your bowels to caper and quiver,
With my big wooden sword: daddy Gates was the giver,
Och honies, O how should I fail;
Och blood anouns, what can the matter be,
That in your two ditches you will thus bespatter me,
I'm sick of your nonsense and long to bescatter ye;
I'm bother'd from head to the tail.

Now take your fine spaiches and all go and read them;
Let the house go before, maister Spaiker precede them,
While I'll stay behind, like a fowl that loves freedom,
Och honies, O how should I fail;
Och blood anouns, what can the matter be,
That with your civilities, thus you bespatter me,
Fait honies, you can't to a GENTLEMAN flatter me,
You are bother'd from head to the tail.





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