Then 'ere 's to the sons o' the Widow,
Wherever, 'owever they roam.
'Ere 's all they desire, an' if they require
A speedy return to their 'ome.
(Poor beggars! they'll never see 'ome!)
BELTS
THERE was a row in Silver Street that's near to Dublin Quay,
Between an Irish regiment an' English cavalree;
It started at Revelly an' it lasted on till dark:
The first man dropped at Harrison's, the last forninst the Park.
For it was: "Belts, belts, belts, an' that's one for you!"
An' it was "Belts, belts, belts, an' that's done for you!"
O buckle an' tongue
Was the song that we sung
From Harrison's down to the Park!
There was a row in Silver Street the regiments was out,
They called us "Delhi Rebels," an' we answered "Threes about!"
That drew them like a hornet's nest we met them good an' large,
The English at the double an' the Irish at the charge.
Then it was: "Belts, &c."
There was a row in Silver Street an' I was in it too;
We passed the time o' day, an' then the belts went whirraru!
I misremember what occurred, but, subsequint the storm,
A Freeman's Journal Supplement was all my uniform.
O it was: "Belts, &c."
