Part 10 (2/2)
_Which n.o.body can deny._
Nor did highwaymen ever before possess For ease, for security, danger, distress, Such a mare as d.i.c.k TURPIN'S Black Bess! Black Bess!
_Which n.o.body can deny._
”A capital song, by the powers!” cried t.i.tus, as Jack's ditty came to a close. ”But your English robbers are nothing at all, compared with our Tories[14] and Rapparees--nothing at all. They were the _raal_ gentlemen--they were the boys to cut a throat _aisily_.”
”Pshaw!” exclaimed Jack, in disgust, ”the gentlemen I speak of never maltreated any one, except in self-defence.”
”Maybe not,” replied t.i.tus; ”I'll not dispute the point--but these Rapparees were true brothers of the blade, and gentlemen every inch.
I'll just sing you a song I made about them myself. But meanwhile don't let's forget the bottle--talking's dry work. My service to you, doctor!”
added he, winking at the somnolent Small. And tossing off his gla.s.s, t.i.tus delivered himself with much joviality of the following ballad; the words of which he adapted to the tune of the _Groves of the Pool_:
THE RAPPAREES
Let the Englishman boast of his Turpins and Sheppards, as c.o.c.ks of the walk, His Mulsacks, and Cheneys, and Swiftnecks[15]--it's all botheration and talk; Compared with the robbers of Ireland, they don't come within half a mile, There never were yet any rascals like those of my own native isle!
First and foremost comes REDMOND O'HANLON, allowed the first thief of the world,[16]
That o'er the broad province of Ulster the Rapparee banner unfurled; Och! he was an elegant fellow, as ever you saw in your life, At fingering the blunderbuss trigger, or handling the throat-cutting knife.
And then such a dare-devil squadron as that which composed REDMOND'S _tail_!
Meel, Mactigh, Jack Reilly, Shan Bernagh, Phil Galloge, and Arthur O'Neal; _Shure_ never were any boys like 'em for rows, _agitations_, and sprees, Not a _rap_ did they leave in the country, and hence they were called _Rap_parees.[17]
Next comes POWER, the great Tory[18] of Munster, a gentleman born every inch, And strong JACK MACPHERSON of Leinster, a horse-shoe who broke at a pinch; The last was a fellow so _lively_, not death e'en his courage could damp, For as he was led to the gallows, he played his own ”march to the camp.”[19]
PADDY FLEMING, d.i.c.k BALF, and MULHONI, I think are the next on my list, All adepts in the beautiful science of giving a pocket a twist; JEMMY CARRICK must follow his leaders, _ould_ PURNEY who put in a huff, By dancing a hornpipe at Tyburn, and bothering the hangman for snuff.
There's PAUL LIDDY, the curly-pate Tory, whose noddle was stuck on a spike, And BILLY DELANEY, the ”_Songster_,”[20] we never shall meet with his like; For his neck by a witch was anointed, and warranted safe by her charm, No hemp that was ever yet twisted his wonderful throttle could harm.
And lastly, there's CAHIR NA CAPPUL, the handiest rogue of them all, Who only need whisper a word, and your horse will trot out of his stall; Your t.i.t is not safe in your stable, though you or your groom should be near, And devil a bit in the paddock, if CAHIR gets _hould_ of his ear.
Then success to the Tories of Ireland, the generous, the gallant, the gay!
With them the best _Rumpads_[21] of England are not to be named the same day!
And were further proof wanting to show what precedence we take with our _prigs_, Recollect that _our_ robbers are Tories, while those of _your_ country are Whigs.
”Bravissimo!” cried Jack, drumming upon the table.
”Well,” said Coates, ”we've had enough about the Irish highwaymen, in all conscience. But there's a rascal on our side of the Channel, whom you have only incidentally mentioned, and who makes more noise than them all put together.”
”Who's that?” asked Jack, with some curiosity.
”d.i.c.k Turpin,” replied the attorney: ”he seems to me quite as worthy of mention as any of the Hinds, the Du-Vals, or the O'Hanlons, you have either of you enumerated.”
”I did not think of him,” replied Palmer, smiling; ”though, if I had, he scarcely deserves to be ranked with those ill.u.s.trious heroes.”
”Gads bobs!” cried t.i.tus; ”they tell me Turpin keeps the best nag in the United Kingdom, and can ride faster and further in a day than any other man in a week.”
”So I've heard,” said Palmer, with a glance of satisfaction. ”I should like to try a run with him. I warrant me, I'd not be far behind.”
”I should like to get a peep at him,” quoth t.i.tus.
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