A Broadside: No. 9 Fourth Year
Title
A Broadside: No. 9 Fourth Year
Subject
Ireland
Dun Emer Press
Cuala Press
A Broadside
Irish Literary Revival
The Gaelic Revival
Description
PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY E. C. YEATS AT THE CUALA PRESS, CHURCHTOWN, DUNDRUM, COUNTY DUBLIN. SUBSCRIPTION TWELVE SHILLINGS A YEAR POST FREE.
300 copies only.
300 copies only.
The woodcut on page [3] has caption: "THE RINGMASTER". Signed by Jack B. Yeats.
Creator
E. C. Yeats
Jack B. Yeats
Publisher
Cuala Press
Date
February, 1912
Text
THE NIGHT BEFORE LARRY WAS STRETCHED
The night before Larry was stretched,
The boys they all paid him a visit,
And a bit in their sacks, too, they fetched,
They sweated their duds till they riz it;
For Larry was always the lad,
When a friend was condemned to the squeezer,
But he'd fence all the togs that he had,
To help a poor friend to the sneezer,
And moisten his gob 'fore he died.
'I'm sorry now, Larry,' says I,
'To see you in this situation;
'Pon my conscience, my lad, I don't lie,
I'd rather it had been my own station.'
'Och hone! 'tis all over,' says he,
'For the neckcloth I'm forced to put on,
And by this time to-morrow you'll see
Your Larry will be dead as mutton,
Bekays, why, my courage was good.'
The boys they came crowding in fast,
They drew all their stools round about him;
Six glims round his trap-case were placed,
He couldn't be well waked without them.
I axed if he was fit for to die,
Without having duly repented?
Says Larry, 'That's all in my eye,
It's only what gownsmen invented
To get a fat bit for themselves.'
The cards being called for, they played,
Till Larry found one of them cheated;
He made a smart stroke at his head
(The boy had been easily heated:)
'Oh! by the holy, you teef,
I'll scuttle your nob with my daddle!
You cheat me because I'm in giref,
But soon I'll demolish your noodle,
And leave you your claret to drink.'
Then in came the priest with his book,
He spoke him so smooth and so civil;
Larry tipped him a Kilmainham look,
And pitched his big wig to the devil;
Then stooping a little his head,
To get a sweet drop of the bottle,
And pitiful sighing, he said,
'Oh! the hemp will be soon round my throttle
And choke my poor windpipe to death.'
So moving these last words he spoke,
We all vented our tears in a shower;
For my part, I thought my heart broke,
To see him cut down like a flower.
On his travels we watched him next day;
Oh! the hangman, I thought I could kill him;
Nor one word poor Larry did say,
Nor changed he till he came to King William,
Then, my dear, his colour turned white.
When he came to the nubbling chit,
He was tucked up so neat and so pretty,
The rumbler jogged off from his feet,
And he died with his face to the city;
He kicked too - but that was all pride,
For soon you might see 'twas all over;
Soon after the noose was untied,
And at darkee we waked him in clover,
And sent him to take a ground sweat.
The night before Larry was stretched,
The boys they all paid him a visit,
And a bit in their sacks, too, they fetched,
They sweated their duds till they riz it;
For Larry was always the lad,
When a friend was condemned to the squeezer,
But he'd fence all the togs that he had,
To help a poor friend to the sneezer,
And moisten his gob 'fore he died.
'I'm sorry now, Larry,' says I,
'To see you in this situation;
'Pon my conscience, my lad, I don't lie,
I'd rather it had been my own station.'
'Och hone! 'tis all over,' says he,
'For the neckcloth I'm forced to put on,
And by this time to-morrow you'll see
Your Larry will be dead as mutton,
Bekays, why, my courage was good.'
The boys they came crowding in fast,
They drew all their stools round about him;
Six glims round his trap-case were placed,
He couldn't be well waked without them.
I axed if he was fit for to die,
Without having duly repented?
Says Larry, 'That's all in my eye,
It's only what gownsmen invented
To get a fat bit for themselves.'
The cards being called for, they played,
Till Larry found one of them cheated;
He made a smart stroke at his head
(The boy had been easily heated:)
'Oh! by the holy, you teef,
I'll scuttle your nob with my daddle!
You cheat me because I'm in giref,
But soon I'll demolish your noodle,
And leave you your claret to drink.'
Then in came the priest with his book,
He spoke him so smooth and so civil;
Larry tipped him a Kilmainham look,
And pitched his big wig to the devil;
Then stooping a little his head,
To get a sweet drop of the bottle,
And pitiful sighing, he said,
'Oh! the hemp will be soon round my throttle
And choke my poor windpipe to death.'
So moving these last words he spoke,
We all vented our tears in a shower;
For my part, I thought my heart broke,
To see him cut down like a flower.
On his travels we watched him next day;
Oh! the hangman, I thought I could kill him;
Nor one word poor Larry did say,
Nor changed he till he came to King William,
Then, my dear, his colour turned white.
When he came to the nubbling chit,
He was tucked up so neat and so pretty,
The rumbler jogged off from his feet,
And he died with his face to the city;
He kicked too - but that was all pride,
For soon you might see 'twas all over;
Soon after the noose was untied,
And at darkee we waked him in clover,
And sent him to take a ground sweat.
Original Format
Broadside
Files
Collection
Citation
E. C. Yeats and Jack B. Yeats, “A Broadside: No. 9 Fourth Year,” Linda Lear Center Digital Collections and Exhibitions, accessed November 23, 2024, https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/items/show/1391.