Mr. Punch's History of the Great War
M.P., is intense; but not to the point of expressing itself in khaki.
The woes of the Irish harvest labourers in England have
Prosperous Irish Farmer: "And what about the War, your Riverence? Do ye think it will hould?"
not yet been fully appreciated, and seem to demand a revised version of "Moira O'Neill's" beautiful poem:
THE IRISH EXILE
Over here in England I'm slavin' in the rain;
Six-an'-six a day we get, an' beds that wanst were clane;
Weary on the English work, 'tis killin' me that same—
Och, Muckish' Mountain, where I used to lie an' dhrame!
At night the windows here are black as Father Murphy's hat;
'Tis fivepence for a pint av beer, an' thin ye can't get that;
Their beef has shtrings like anny harp, for dacent ham I hunt—
Och, Muckish Mountain, an' my pig's sweet grunt!
260
