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Show The Knell of the Irish Joke. Wherever the breezes cirry The language that Shakespeare spoke, Tho chambers of progress echo Tho knell of the Irish Joke. Wherever tho sun Is vying With tho warmth of the Celtlo soul, 1'rom tha belfries of truth, the dirges For scorn and for falsehood roll. In a land that Is strange In Us humor, nvor comlo Itself In Its mirth, The jibe at tho conquered and friendless. And the rough burlesque had their birth, Llko tho plaguo that Journeys In vessels. This tasteless derision spread, And tho scorn of a realm then building Was heaped on tho builders' head, Dut the shackles on Coltlc effort, Tho walls by tho tyrant laid, After ages, at length lie shattered On tho highways a now ago made. In the rczlons whose name should be "Future." The dawn of a new day broke, As a mist from our race It Is rolling The curse of the Irish Joke. Thomas J. Itegan In The Pilot |