A Broadside: No. 8 Fifth Year
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300 copies only.
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CHILD'S FANCY
DEAD LETTERS
Every night a man comes down our street,
Without a sound he comes on silent feet:
But every single night at two o'clock,
He comes along, for I can hear him knock
At almost all the houses in his round,
And the doors open soft without a sound:
And he hands in the letters then, I know,
For folk who died a hundred years ago.
Seumas O'Sullivan
DAN DONNELLY
You songsters all rejoice with an united voice,
While we support the choice of Ireland's present pride,
Let music's mental sound make earth and air resound,
Since victory has crowned the Shamrock on our side.
The thistle and the rose I really do suppose,
Reluctantly shall close and never more shall vie.
Scottish pride shall cease, Brittania hold her peace,
Our Irish harp increase in praise of Donnelly.
It was Donnelly's delight to conquer Scots in fight,
He put England in a fright and left them to complain,
Their bully's discomofort in either stage or pit,
He taught them future wit from boasting to refrain.
It was useless to contend with our victorious friend,
He would never condescend nor yield to bribery,
He's nature's present boast and Ireland's future toast,
And those who rise the host they pray for Donnelly.
No pugilist on earth that ever yet got birth
More active or expert or fortunate in fight,
Or Grecian hero's fame when Troy was in flame,
Could boast of such a name, to hold his country's right,
He was Granua's true bred son, no danger he'd shun,
He'd seek no sword or gun, but fight most manfully,
Well made of flesh and bone, his arms were his own,
And England did bemoan that vide with Donnelly.
It is not to irritate or kindle a debate
That we should explicate the purpose of his praise,
For were we to present it to our Parliament,
It was by God's consent he won their glorious lays.
It was with obedience he with nobles did agree,
He left his country to humble England's boast,
Where Donnelly the Great who did his foes defeat,
He made our Shamrock smile all on the British coast.
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