Peg of Limavaddy

Riding from Coleraine   (Famed for lovely Kitty), Came a Cockney bound   Unto Derby city; Weary was his soul,   Shivering and sad, he Bumped along the road   Leads to Limavaddy. Mountains stretched around,   Gloomy was their tinting, And the horse’s hoofs   Made a dismal clinting; Wind upon the heath   Howling was and piping, On the heath and bog,   Black with many a snipe in. ’Mid the bogs of black,   Silver pools were flashing, Crows upon their sides   Picking were and splashing. Cockney on the ear   Closer folds his plaidy, Grumbling at the road   Leads to Limavaddy. Through the crashing woods   Autumn brawled and blustered, Tossing round about   Leaves the hue of mustard; Yonder lay Lough Foyle,   Which a storm was whipping, Covering with mist   Lake and shores and shipping. Up and down the hill   (Nothing could be bolder), Horse went with a raw   Bleeding on his shoulder. “Where are horses changed?”   Said I to the laddy Driving on the box:   “Sir, at Limavaddy.” Limavaddy inn ’s   But a humble bait-house, Where you may procure   Whiskey and potatoes; Landlord at the door   Gives a smiling welcome— To the shivering wights   Who to his hotel come. Landlady within   Sits and knits a stocking, With a wary foot   Baby’s cradle rocking. To the chimney-nook   Having found admittance, There I watch a pup   Playing with two kittens (Playing round the fire,   Which of blazing turf is, Roaring to the pot   Which bubbles with the murphies). And the cradled babe   Fond the mother nursed it, Singing it a song   As she twists the worsted! Up and down the stair   Two more young ones patter (Twins were never seen   Dirtier nor fatter). Both have mottled legs,   Both have snubby noses, Both have—Here the host   Kindly interposes: “Sure you must be froze   With the sleet and hail, sir: So will you have some punch,   Or will you have some ale, sir?” Presently a maid   Enters with the liquor (Half a pint of ale   Frothing in a beaker). Gads! I didn’t know   What my beating heart meant: Hebe’s self I thought   Entered the apartment. As she came she smiled,   And the smile bewitching, On my word and honor,   Lighted all the kitchen! With a courtesy neat   Greeting the new-comer, Lovely, smiling Peg   Offers me the rummer: But my trembling hand   Up the beaker tilted, And the glass of ale   Every drop I spilt it: Spilt it every drop   (Dames who read my volumes, Pardon such a word)   On my what-d’ye-call-’ems! Witnessing the sight   Of that dire disaster, Out began to laugh   Missis, maid, and master; Such a merry peal   ’Specially Miss Peg’s was (As the glass of ale   Trickling down my legs was), That the joyful sound   Of that mingling laughter Echoed in my ears   Many a long day after. Such a silver peal!   In the meadows listening, You who ’ve heard the bells   Ringing to a christening; You who ever heard   Caradori pretty, Smiling like an angel,   Singing “Giovinetti”; Fancy Peggy’s laugh,   Sweet, and clear, and cheerful, At my pantaloons   With half a pint of beer full! When the laugh was done,   Peg, the pretty hussy, Moved about the room   Wonderfully busy; Now she looks to see   If the kettle keep hot; Now she rubs the spoons,   Now she cleans the teapot; Now she sets the cups   Trimly and secure: Now she scours a pot,   And so it was I drew her. Thus it was I drew her   Scouring of a kettle, (Faith! her blushing cheeks   Reddened on the metal!) Ah! but ’t is in vain   That I try to sketch it; The pot perhaps is like,   But Peggy’s face is wretched. No! the best of lead   And of Indian-rubber Never could depict   That sweet kettle-scrubber! See her as she moves!   Scarce the ground she touches, Airy as a fay,   Graceful as a duchess; Bare her rounded arm,   Bare her little leg is, Vestris never showed   Ankles like to Peggy’s. Braided is her hair,   Soft her look and modest, Slim her little waist   Comfortably bodiced. This I do declare,   Happy is the laddy Who the heart can share   Of Peg of Limavaddy. Married if she were,   Blest would be the daddy Of the children fair   Of Peg of Limavaddy. Beauty is not rare   In the land of Paddy, Fair beyond compare   Is Peg of Limavaddy. Citizen or Squire,   Tory, Whig, or Radical, Would all desire   Peg of Limavaddy. Had I Homer’s fire,   Or that of Sergeant Taddy, Meetly I ’d admire   Peg of Limavaddy. And till I expire,   Or till I grow mad, I Will sing unto my lyre   Peg of Limavaddy!