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1404,https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/items/show/1404,"A Broadside: No. 10 Fifth Year","Ireland^^Cuala Press^^A Broadside^^Irish Literary Revival^^The Gaelic Revival","PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY E. C. YEATS AT THE CUALA PRESS, CHURCHTOWN, DUNDRUM, COUNTY DUBLIN. SUBSCRIPTION TWELVE SHILLINGS A YEAR POST FREE.
300 copies only.","E.C. Yeats^^Jack B. Yeats",,"Cuala Press",,"March, 1913",,,,,,,,"THE OLD CHISOLM TRAIL
Come along, boys, and listen to my tale,
I'll tell you of my troubles on the old Chisholm trail.
Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya, youpy ya,
Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya.
I started up the trail October twenty-third,
I started up the trail with the 2-U herd.
Oh, a ten dollar hoss and a forty dollar saddle,-
And I'm goin' to punchin' Texas cattle.
I woke up one morning on the old Chisholm trail,
Rope in my hand and a cow by the tail.
I'm up in the mornin' afore daylight
And afore I sleep the moon shines bright.
Old Ben Bolt was a blamed good boss,
But he'd go to see the girls on a sore-backed hoss.
Old Ben Bolt was a fine old man
And you'd know there was whiskey wherever he'd land.
My hoss throwed me off at the creek called Mud,
My hoss throwed me off round the 2-U herd.
Last time I saw him he was going cross the level
A-kicking up his heels and a-running like the devil.
It's cloudy in the West, a-looking like rain,
And my damned old slicker's in the wagon again.
Crippled my hoss, I don't know how,
Ropin' at the horns of a 2-U cow.
We hit Caldwell and we hit her on the fly,
We bedded down the cattle on the hill close by.
No chaps, no slicker, and it's pouring down rain,
And I swear, by God, I'll never night-herd again.
Feet in the stirrups and seat in the saddle,
I hung and rattled with them long-horn cattle.
Last night I was on guard and the leader broke the ranks,
I hit my horse down the shoulders and I spurred him in the flanks.
The wind commenced to blow, and the rain began to fall,
Hit looked, by grab, like we was goin' to loss 'em all.
I jumped in the saddle and grabbed holt the horn,
Best blamed cow-puncher ever was born.
I popped my foot in the stirrup and gave a little yell,
The tail cattle broke and the leaders went to hell.
I don't give a damn if they never do stop;
I'll ride as long as an eight-day clock.
Foot in the stirrup and hand on the horn,
Best damned cowboy ever was born.
I herded and I hollered and I done very well,
Till the boss said, 'Boys, just let 'em go to hell.'
Stay in the herd and the boss said kill it,
So I shot him in the rump with the handle of the skillet.
We rounded 'em up and put 'em on the cars,
And that was the last of the old Two Bars.
Oh it's bacon and beans most every day,-
I'd as soon be a-eatin' prairie hay.
I'm on my best horse and I'm goin' at a run,
I'm the quickest shootin' cowboy that ever pulled a gun.
I went to the wagon to get my roll,
I come back to Texas, dad-burn my soul.
I went to the boss to draw my roll,
He had it figgered out I was nine dollars in the hole.
I'll sell my outfit just as soon as I can,
I won't punch cattle for no damned man.
Goin' back to town to draw my money,
Goin' back home to see my honey.
With my knees in the saddle and my seat in the sky,
I'll quit punching cows in the sweet by and by.
Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya, youpy ya,
Coma ti ys youpy, youpy ya.",,,,,,Broadside,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,"A Broadside,Cuala Press,Dublin,Dun Emer,E. C. Yeats,Ireland,Irish Literary Revival,Jack B. Yeats,The Gaelic Revival,The Old Chisholm Trail",https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/files/original/6427267f4806b2ff2966708e6cc0229d.pdf,Text,"Cuala Press Broadsides",1,0
1392,https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/items/show/1392,"A Broadside: No. 10 Fourth Year","Ireland^^Dun Emer Press^^Cuala Press^^A Broadside^^Irish Literary Revival^^The Gaelic Revival","PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY E. C. YEATS AT THE CUALA PRESS, CHURCHTOWN, DUNDRUM, COUNTY DUBLIN. SUBSCRIPTION TWELVE SHILLINGS A YEAR POST FREE.
300 copies only.^^The woodcut on page [3] has caption: ""Marionettes"". Signed by Jack B. Yeats.","E. C. Yeats^^ Jack B. Yeats^^Padraic Colum",,"Cuala Press","March, 1912",,,,,,,,,"
THE BARD ON THE BODACH
Translated from the Irish Seumas O'Kelly,
May a messenger come from the high place of God
To bear up your soul to a throne,
But a robber be robbing him on his way back,
And your fall be as dead as a stone.
May your tables be laden with gold and with jewels,
And your hands be upon them for proof;
When the devil whips in by your beggarly door
And tears your red soul through the roof.
SHE MOVED THROUGH THE FAIR
My young love said to me, 'My parents won't mind
And my brothers won't slight you for your lack of kind;'
And she went away from me, and this she did say,
'It will not be long, love, till our marriage-day.'
She stepped away from me and she moved through the fair,
And fondly I watched her move here and move there;
She went her way homewards with one star awake,
As the swan in the evening moves over the lake.
The people were saying, no two were e'er wed,
But one had a sorrow that never was said;
And I smiled as she passed with her goods and her gear,
And that was the last that I saw of my dear.
I dreamt that last night my young love came in,
So softly she entered her feet made no din;
And she came close beside me and this she did say,
It will not be long, love, till our marriage-day.'
Padraic Colum
",,,,,,Broadside,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,"A Broadside,Cuala Press,Dublin,Dun Emer,E. C. Yeats,Ireland,Irish Literary Revival,Jack B. Yeats,Marionettes,Padraic Colum,She Moved Through the Fair,The Bard on the Bodach,The Gaelic Revival",https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/files/original/f012ab9c205d37f4ef9b41870180ad69.pdf,Text,"Cuala Press Broadsides",1,0
1368,https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/items/show/1368,"A Broadside: No. 10 Second Year","Ireland^^Dun Emer Press^^Cuala Press^^A Broadside^^Irish Literary Revival^^The Gaelic Revival","PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY E. C. YEATS AT THE CUALA PRESS, CHURCHTOWN , DUNDRUM, COUNTY DUBLIN. SUBSCRIPTION TWELVE SHILLINGS A YEAR POST FREE.
300 copies only. ^^The woodcut on page [3] has caption: ""Greenford Races"". Signed by Jack B. Yeats. ","E. C. Yeats^^Jack B. Yeats^^Seumas O'Sullivan",,"Cuala Press","March, 1910",,,,,,,,,"FUNERALS
As I go down Glasnevin way
The funerals pass me day by day:
Stately, sombre, stepping slow
The white-plumed funeral horses go,
With coaches crawling in their wake
A long and slow black-glittering snake.
(Inside of every crawling yoke
Silent cronies sit and smoke)
Evermore as I grow thinner,
Day after day without a dinner;
Every day, as I go down,
I meet the funerals leaving town.
Soon my procession will be on view
A hearse and maybe a coach or two.
Seumas O'Sullivan
THE COTTAGERS DAUGHTER
Ah! tell me ye swains, have you seen my Pastora?
O say, have you met the sweet nymph in your way?
Transcendant as Venus, and blythe as Aurora,
From Neptune's bed rising to hail the new day.
Forlorn do I wander and long time have sought her,
The fairest, the rarest, for ever my theme;
A Goddess in form, though a cottager's daughter
That dwells on the borders of Aln's winding stream.
Of Aln's winding stream, of Aln's winding stream,
That dwells on the borders of Aln's winding stream.
The lordlings so gay, and young squires have sought her,
To link her fair hand in the conjugal chain,
Devoid of ambition that cottager's daughter
Convinced them their flattery and offers were vain.
When first I beheld her, I fondly besought her,
My heart did her homage, and love was her theme;
She vow'd to be mine, the sweet cottager's daughter,
That dwells on the borders of Aln's winding.
Then, why thus alone does she leave me to languish?
Pastora to splendour could ne'er yield her hand;
Ah no! she returns to remove my fond anguish,
O'er her heart love and truth retain the command.
The wealth of Golconda could never have bought her,
For love, truth and constancy, still is her theme.
Then give me kind Hymen, the cottager's daughter,
That dwells on the borders of Aln's winding stream,
Of Aln's winding stream, of Aln's winding stream,
A Goddess in form tho' a cottager's daughter,
That dwells on the borders of Aln's winding stream.",,,,,,Broadside,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,"A Broadside,Cuala Press,Dublin,Dun Emer,E. C. Yeats,Funerals,Greenford Races,Ireland,Jack B. Yeats,Seumas O'Sullivan,The Cottagers Daughter",https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/files/original/8446049b3f041a81264b9cbed8136340.pdf,Text,"Cuala Press Broadsides",1,0
1416,https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/items/show/1416,"A Broadside: No. 10 Sixth Year","Ireland^^Cuala Press^^A Broadside^^The Gaelic Revival^^Irish Literary Revival","PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY E. C. YEATS AT THE CUALA PRESS, CHURCHTOWN, DUNDRUM, COUNTY DUBLIN. SUBSCRIPTION TWELVE SHILLINGS A YEAR POST FREE.
300 copies only.^^The woodcut on page [3] has caption: ""The Metropolitan Regatta Dublin"". Signed by Jack B. Yeats. ","E. C. Yeats^^Jack B. Yeats",,"Cuala Press","March, 1914",,,,,,,,,"NORA CREINA
Who are you that walks this way so like the Empress Dejanina?
Is it true what people say, that you're the famous Shilnagirah?
Or are you the great Pompey? or, Britain's Queen, bold Tulbureena?
Or are you Dido, or Doctor Magee? oh no, says she, I'm Nora Creina!
Chorus
I'm the girl that makes the stir from Cork along to Skiberdeena;
All the day we drink strong tea, and whiskey, too, says Nora Criena.
Who are you that ax my name? Othello, Wat Tyler or Julius Caesar?
Or are you Venus, of bright fame? or that old fogy Nebuchadnezzar?
Or maybe you are Pluto Stout, or jolly old Bacchus, drunk and hearty,
There, my lass, your eye is out, for I am Napoleon Bonaparte.
Won't you dine with me today? I'll send for you a horse and crupper,
And, lest you should refuse to stay? I'll tell you who we'll have for supper:
Macgillcuddy of the Reeks, and Donaghue Glen, the Duke of Glo'ster,
Oliver Cromwell and Brian O'Lynn, Cadwallader Waddy and Leslie Foster.
THE TAN-YARD SIDE
I am a rambling hero, by love I am ensnared;
Near to the town of Baltinglass there dwells a comely maid;
She's fairer than Diana bright, she's free from earthly pride,
She's a lovely maid - her dwelling place lies near the tan-yard side.
I stood in meditation, I veiwed her o'er and o'er,
i thought she was Aurora bright, descending down so low;
'No, no, kind sir, I'm a country girl,' she modestly replied,
'I labor daily for my bread down by the tan-yard side.
For twelve long months we courted, till at length we did agree
For to acquaint her parents and married we would be;
Till at length her cruel father to me he proved unkind,
Which makes me sail across the seas and leave my true love behind.
Farewell, my aged parents, and to you I bid adieu;
I'm crossing the main ocean, dear, for the sake of you;
But if ever I return again, I will make you my bride,
And I'll roll you in my arms down by the tan-yard side.",,,,,,Broadside,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,"A Broadside,Cuala Press,Dublin,Dun Emer,E. C. Yeats,Ireland,Irish Literary Revival,Jack B. Yeats,Nora Creina,The Gaelic Revival,The Metropolitan Regatta Dublin,The Tan-Yard Side",https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/files/original/cc6af2848cea3dfa66bc297772ceba44.pdf,Text,"Cuala Press Broadsides",1,0
1380,https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/items/show/1380,"A Broadside: No. 10 Third Year","Ireland^^Dun Emer Press^^Cuala Press^^A Broadside^^Irish Literary Revival^^The Gaelic Revival","PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY E. C. YEATS AT THE CUALA PRESS, CHURCHTOWN, DUNDRUM, COUNTY DUBLIN. SUBSCRIPTION TWELVE SHILLINGS A YEAR POST FREE.
300 copies only.^^The woodcut on page [3] has caption: ""HOBBY HORSES"". Signed by Jack B. Yeats.","E. C. Yeats^^Jack B. Yeats",,"Cuala Press","March, 1911",,,,,,,,,"JOHN MORRISSEY AND THE RUSSIAN SAILOR
Attend, ye sons of Erin's Isle, your attention now I crave,
Till I relate the praises of an Irish hero brave;
Concerning this great fight took place all on the other day
Between a Russian sailor and a gallant Morrissey.
In Teredelphiago we go in, in South America,
The Russian challenged Morrissey, and this to him did say;
'I hear you are an Irishman, whereon the belt I see,
What do you think of your consent to have a round with me?'
To fight upon the tenth of March those heroes did agree,
And thousands came from Ireland this champion fight to see;
The Russians and the Yankees their hearts were filled with glee,
For sure that their bully boy would kill John Morrissey.
Those heroes stepped into the ring, most gallant to be seen,
When Morrissey clapped on the belt, bound round with shamrock green;
For sixty thousand dollars, as you can plainly see,
That was to be the champion's prize who'd gain the victory.
They kissed, shook hands, walked round the ring, commencing with the fight,
Which filled each Irish heart that day for to behold the sight;
The Russian, then, he flew at him, when coming to the ground;
From that up to the second round John Morrissey went down.
Four minutes and a half he lay before that he could rise,
The cry went all round the ring, 'He is dead!' was all their cry;
But Morrissey arose again, and coming from the ground,
From that up to the eleventh round the Russian he went down.
The Irish offered four to one that day upon the grass,
No sooner said than taken up when down the showers of cash.
They parried away without delay up to the thirtieth round,
When Morrissey gave him a blow that brought him to the ground.
Up till the thirty-seventh round it was fall for fall about,
That made those foreign tyrants to have a sharp look-out;
The Russian called his seconds to give him a glass of wine,
Our Irish hero smiled and said: 'The battle is surely mine.'
Our hero conquered Thompson, and the Yankee clipper too,
The Melisia boy and shepherd he nobly did subdue;
And to our brave Tipperary boy the Russian was forced to yield -
John Morrissey, like Donnelly, he'd die or gain the field.
The cheers of our brave Irish boys did grieve their hearts full sore,
Their bully, eighteen stone three pounds, his height full six feet four.
They went into St. Patrick's land and made the taverns roar,
They sung the praise of Morrissey who came from Templemore.
Come let us dance and sing
While Barbados bells do ring:
Quashie scrapes the fiddle string
And Venus plays the lute.",,,,,,Broadside,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,"A Broadside,Cuala Press,Dublin,Dun Emer,E. C. Yeats,Hobby Horses,Ireland,Irish Literary Revival,Jack B. Yeats,John Morrissey and the Russian Sailor,The Gaelic Revival",https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/files/original/e38b670a39c7890b914fb441e0792936.pdf,Text,"Cuala Press Broadsides",1,0
1428,https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/items/show/1428,"A Broadside: No. 10. Seventh and Last Year of the Set","Ireland^^Cuala Press^^A Broadside^^Irish Literary Revival^^The Gaelic Revival","PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY E. C. YEATS AT THE CUALA PRESS, CHURCHTOWN, DUNDRUM, COUNTY DUBLIN. SUBSCRIPTION TWELVE SHILLINGS A YEAR POST FREE.
300 copies only.^^The woodcut on page [3] has the caption: ""THE OLD CAR DRIVER. Signed by Jack B. Yeats. ","E.C. Yeats^^Jack B. Yeats",,"Cuala Press","March, 1915",,,,,,,,,"ON THE LOVE OF JESUS
O my dear Jesus, how late have I known thee,
My treasons depraved me and bereft me of sight,
I wandered through places most heinous, abjuring,
The rules of salvation and the maxims of light.
And if I could from my sins bewail,
And truly repent and spend my days
In loving thee and be sincere,
To praise thee and adore.
Now, my sweet Saviour, receive and renew me,
Through thy mercy and graces with zeal I implore.
Who but a traitor could forsake and disown thee,
If he considered daily how dearly he was bought?
In thy painful agony that tortured thee extremely
When sorrow did seize thee, and really then brought,
Thy precious blood through every pore,
Of they tender body to start by force,
And trickling down in clotted gore,
On the ground to be seen,
In streams then congealing and thou bathed all over,
In the purple raiment which veiled then the green.
Now I'll trace thee, my Jesus through the stages succeeding
And ponder still serious how great was thy love,
For those that disown thee, and look so disdainfully,
On they sufferings painful though pleasing above.
Oh! what heart so hard in vice,
Could not but feel for thee when tied
And dragged along like a lamb so mild,
To be slaughtered by those,
Who seiz' d thee in the garden; and hauled thee so hasty
To Annias and Caiaphas their charge to disclose.
There thou wert abused and cruelly maltreated,
After scoffing thee inhumanly and defiling thy face,
From thence removed thee to Pilate and Herod,
Shouting without ceasing, nor pitying thy case,
No tongue could e'er express,
The excessive pains which thee oppressed
When thou wast bound to a pillar fast
By thy tyrannic foes.
And those miscreants so hateful beating thee without reprieve,
Till they cut thee severely, they flayed thee so close.
All you lovers of Jesus I pray now behold him,
With his purple blood streaming from his new naked sores,
His body quite weary and really exhausted,
They loosed him then scornfully to draw again his gores.
Then they pressed on his head a wreath,
Of sharp long thorns that caused much pain;
And fixed in his hands a rod or cane,
In his face then they spewed,
Their phlegm, which so basely destroyed all his beauty,
And yet to salute him they rudely then bowed.
After disgorging their thick phlegms so nauseous,
In the face of my darling, they all then agreed,
To nail him most barbarous on a long tree with scorn,
And then to exalt him his heart's blood to bleed;
That hard weed they did procure
Which he did bear on his painful wounds,
To Calvary's Mount, and he in swoon,
Falling on the roads,
And those tigers still tearing and beating him with clubs and pikes
And piercing him severely with sharp-pointed goads.
When his journey was over, in this doleful situation,
They fastened him with gross nails to the load he did bear,
And raised him with ropes as a show to spectator
And he for those slaying him offering his prayers,
They pierced his heart with a lance by force,
And made in his side so wide a wound,
That his precious blood then gushed in gores,
To save and restore,
Those creatures who forsake him for vain things which deceive,
Now, dear Jesus, receive me; I'll forsake thee no more.",,,,,,Broadside,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/files/original/6a6a198317eee9f45fa6290f2a440934.pdf,Text,,1,0
1356,https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/items/show/1356,"A Broadside: No. 11","Ireland^^Dun Emer Press^^Cuala Press^^A Broadside^^Irish Literary Revival^^The Gaelic Revival","PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY E. C. YEATS AT THE CUALA PRESS, CHURCHTOWN, DUNDRUM,
COUNTY DUBLIN. SUBSCRIPTION TWELVE SHILLINGS A YEAR POST FREE.
300 copies only.^^The Woodcut on page [3] has caption: ""The Pirate Joins his Ship"". Signed by Jack B. Yeats.","E. C. Yeats^^Jack B. Yeats ^^Lady Gregory",,"Cuala Press","April, 1909",,,,,,,,,"AN ADVICE
Translated by Lady Gregory from the Irish of An Chraoibhin
Listen, young son, to the old man,
And as it is right follow his counsel,
And do not let out of your mouth
A destroying story of your neighbour.
For if there is but a little yellow wren
Listening to you from the top of the house,
The secret will go out in the talk of the birds
Till it snatches away his good name from him.
There are three things I gave my love to
And not without cause; your fine woman,
Along with that your good old whiskey;
And you lord that is right and pleasant.
There are three things that I hate;
Your sluts of yellow women;
Your empty glasses on the table;
And no welcome from the man of the house.
BARNEY BUNTLING
One night came on a hurricane,
The sea was mountains rolling,
When Barney Buntling turn'd his quid,
And said to Billy Bowling,
'A strong sou'wester is blowing, Bill,
Can't you hear it roar now?
Lord help 'em how I pities all
Unhappy folks on shore now!
Fool-hardy chaps as lives in town,
What danger they are all in;
And now they're quaking in their beds,
For fear the roof should fall in;
Poor creatures, how they envies us,
And wishes I've a notion,
For our good luck, in such a storm,
To be upon the ocean.
They have to keep them out all day
On business from their houses,
And late at night are coming home,
To cheer their wives and spouses;
While you and I upon the deck,
Are comfortably lying,
MY eyes, what tiles and chimeny pots,
About their heads are flying!
And often have we seamen heard
How men are killed or undone,
By overturns in carriages
And thieves and fires in London;
We've heard what risks all landsmen run
From noblemen to tailors;
So, Bill, let's thank Providence,
That you and I are sailors.'
",,,,,,Broadside,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/files/original/0682606e26cc6ae9486c43e12eafade5.pdf,Text,"Cuala Press Broadsides",1,0
1405,https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/items/show/1405,"A Broadside: No. 11 Fifth Year","Ireland^^Cuala Press^^A Broadside^^Irish Literary Revival^^The Gaelic Revival","PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY E. C. YEATS AT THE CUALA PRESS, CHURCHTOWN, DUNDRUM, COUNTY DUBLIN. SUBSCRIPTION TWELVE SHILLINGS A YEAR POST FREE.
300 copies only.^^The woodcut on page [3] has caption: ""Rogues"". Signed by Jack B. Yeats.","E. C. Yeats^^Jack B. Yeats^^Eoin Mac Eoin",,"Cuala Press","April, 1913",,,,,,,,,"JOHN FRANCOIS
(Hilliard Chanty)
Boney was a warrior,
Away-i-oh;
Boney was a warrior,
John Francois.
Boney fought the Proosh-i-ans,
Away-i-oh;
Boney fought the Proosh-i-ans,
John Francois.
Boney fought the Roosh-i-ans,
Away-i-oh;
Boney fought the Roosh-i-ans,
John Francois.
Drive her, captain, drive her,
Away-i-oh;
Drive her, captain, drive her,
John Francois.
Give her the top-gallant sails,
Away-i-oh;
Give her the top-gallant sails,
John Francois.
It's a weary way to Baltimore,
Away-i-oh;
It's a weary way to Baltimore,
John Francois.
The drivers in the sunset race
Their coal-carts over cobble-stones:
Not draymen now but charioteers;
Their bags are left with Smith and Jones
They let the horses take their stride
Which toss their forelocks in their pride.
Nor green nor blue these faction wear
That make career o'er Dublin stones
But Pluto his own livery
Is what each whip-carrier owns.
The Caesar of the cab-rank I
Now bless the triumph hurtling by !
Eoin Mac Eoin.
",,,,,,Broadside,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,"A Broadside,Cuala Press,Dublin,Dun Emer,E. C. Yeats,Eoin Mac Eoin,Halliard Chanty,Ireland,Irish Literary Revival,Jack B.Yeats,John Francois,Rogues,The Gaelic Revival",https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/files/original/fab35eda73310ea8528ef07795169fb5.pdf,Text,"Cuala Press Broadsides",1,0
1393,https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/items/show/1393,"A Broadside: No. 11 Fourth Year","Ireland^^Dun Emer Press^^Cuala Press^^A Broadside^^Irish Literary Revival^^The Gaelic Revival","PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY E. C. YEATS AT THE CUALA PRESS, CHURCHTOWN, DUNDRUM, COUNTY DUBLIN. SUBSCRIPTION TWELVE SHILLINGS A YEAR POST FREE.
300 copies only.^^The woodcut on page [3] has caption: ""A WESTERN OCEAN BEACH"". Signed by Jack B. Yeats, ","E. C. Yeats^^Jack B. Yeats^^Padraic Colum",,"Cuala Press","April, 1912",,,,,,,,,"THE LONE WOMAN
When sleep would settle on me,
Like the wild bird down on the nest
The wind tears out of the West.
It batters the door, maybe,
And chases away my rest
When sleep would settle on me.
Oul' man, you built on the lea
Your house, and its door to the sea
With every bad tool in the chest.
Ochon, there's the wind on my breast,
It tears at the door, d'ye see
And batters away my rest,
When sleep would settle on me,
Like the wild bird down on the nest!
Oul' man, may you lie with the blest!
Padraic Colum
A LONG TIME AGO
(Hilliards Chanty)
A long, long time, and a long time ago,
To me way hay, Ohio;
A long, long time, and a long time ago,
A long time ago.
A Smart Yankee packet lay out in the bay,
To me way hay, Ohio;
A-waiting for a fair wind to get under way,
A long time ago.
With all her poor sailors all sick and all sore,
To me way hay, Ohio;
For they'd drunk all their lime-juice, and could get no more,
A long time ago.
With all her poor sailors all sick and all sad,
To me way hay, Ohio;
For they'd drunk all their lime-juice, and no more could be had,
A long time ago.
She was waiting for a fair wind to get under way,
To me way hay, Ohio;
She was waiting for a fair wind to get under way,
A long time ago.
If she hasn't had a fair wind she's lying there still,
To me way hay, Ohio;
If she hasn't had a fair wind she's lying there still,
A long time ago.
",,,,,,Broadside,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,"A Broadside,A Long Time Ago,A Western Ocean Beach,Cuala Press,Dublin,Dun Emer,E. C. Yeats,Ireland,Irish Literary Revival,Jack B. Yeats,Padraic Colum,The Gaelic Revival,The Lone Woman",https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/files/original/0e09153907aebbe6df33e92191d598c9.pdf,Text,"Cuala Press Broadsides",1,0
1417,https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/items/show/1417,"A Broadside: No. 11 Sixth Year","Ireland^^Cuala Press^^A Broadside^^Irish Literary Revival^^The Gaelic Revival","PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY E. C. YEATS AT THE CUALA PRESS, CHURCHTOWN, DUNDRUM, COUNTY DUBLIN. SUBSCRIPTION TWELVE SHILLINGS A YEAR POST FREE.
300 copies only.^^The woodcut on page [3] has the caption: ""The Death of Lord Edward Fitzgerald in a Dublin Waxworks"". Signed by Jack B. Yeats. ","E. C. Yeats^^Jack B. Yeats",,"Cuala Press","April, 1914",,,,,,,,,"THE GREEN LINNET
Curiosity bore a young native of Erin
To view the gay banks of the Rhine,
When an Empress he saw, and the robe she was wearing
All over with diamonds did shine;
A goddess in splendour was never yet seen
To equal this fair one so mild and serene,
In soft murmurs she says; my sweet linnet so green,
Are you gone- will I never see you more?
The cold lofty Alps you freely went over,
Which nature had placed in your way,
That Marengo Saloney around you did hover
And Paris did rejoice the next day;
It grieves me the hardships you did undergo,
Over mountains you travelled all covered with snow.
The balance of power your courage laid low,
Are you gone- will I never see you more?
the crowned heads of Europe, when you were in splendour,
Fain would they have you submit,
But the Goddess of Freedom soon bid them surrender,
And lowered the standard to your wit;
Old Frederick's colors in France you did bring,
Yet his offspring found shelter under your wing,
That year in Virginia, you sweetly did sing,
Are you gone - will I never see you more?
That numbers of men are eager to slay you
Their malice you viewed with a smile,
Their gold through all Europe they sowed to betray you
And they joined the Mamelukes on the Nile.
Like ravens for blood their vile passions did burn
The orphans they slew and caused the widow to mourn
They say my linnet's gone and ne'er will return
Is he gone- will I never see him more?
When the trumpet of war the grand blast was sounding,
You marched to the north with good will,
To relieve the poor slaves in their vile sack clothing
You used your exertion and skill;
You spread out the wings of your envied train
While tyrants great Caesar's old nest set in flame,
Their own subjects they caused to eat herbs on the plains,
Are you gone - will I never see you more?
In great Waterloo, where numbers laid sprawling
In every field, high and low,
Fame on her trumpets true Frenchmen were calling,
Fresh laurels to place on her brow;
Usurper did tremble to hear the loud call,
The third old Babe's new buildings did fall,
The Spaniards their fleet in the harbour did call,
Are you gone - I will never see you more?
I'll roam thro' the deserts of wild Abyssinia,
And yet find no cure for my pain;
Will I go and enquire in the isle of St. Helena?
No, we will whisper in vain.
Tell me, you critics, now tell me in time,
The nation I will range my sweet linnet to find,
Was he slain at Waterloo, or Elba, or the Rhine?
If he was - I will never see him more.",,,,,,Broadside,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,"A Broadside,Cuala Press,Dublin,Dun Emer,E. C. Yeats,Ireland,Irish Literary Revival,Jack B. Yeats,The Death of Lord Edward Fitzgerald in a Dublin Waxworks,The Gaelic Revival,The Green Linnet",https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/files/original/18d5e4b923d57c2fcf8b11acff7beccc.pdf,Text,"Cuala Press Broadsides",1,0