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Show . . l NO. S2,675, IRISH MICHAEL MA- j HONY. j j Like a sturdy Irish rebel, where the swift . lugela "roars. f Is Irish Michael Mahony, a-fighting for j the Boers; I Not fighting for the queen, my lads, nor j for a battered crown. . Is rebel Michael Mahony, from Tipperary j town. I There was nothing like a wild hurrah when Mahony marched away. I Nor majors great, or captains, thundered I orders to obey; He was major, captain, private, too, and his heart was in cemmand. a When ho stepped aboard the steamer that was headed for the Rur.d. 1 With a sprig of shamrock near his heart, 3 plucked from old Slievenamon. He jumped upon the Durban wharf, and 3 hailed the rising1 sun. And he sang not. "Kule Britannia." nor, my lads. "God save the Queen," ; But a stave of Fenlarv "treason," and the 5 "Wearin' of the Green." " i ' . I ' i One look upon the sunlit sea, one toward! h$ Irish land, l And rebel Michael Mahony was tramping I for the Rand: j Across the veldt he's pone to stay, where m Maxims grimiy frown. 1 And Paul Kruger's hardest tighter is from a ! Tipperary town. - The veldt is still beneath his feet, the sun 1 is warm and white. I And rebel Michael Mahony's eye Is on his S riflle sight, 1 He's foremost on the firing line, just carv- f 1 ing out renown - S For the cause of glorious freedom and for j Tipperary town. j And from his home across the sea urt Irish colleen's prayer, f Comes whisp'ring to the battlefield where S missiles till the air: t "God bless Mike's flying bullets, may each, f bring a Saxon down".- I I They do, for Feniana learn to shoot in If Tipperary town. ? ! S. J. DONLEAVY. ' ! I i |