From Peter Strongbow, New York, to His Brother in Connaught; A letter in Verse and Prose.

In order to escape the police and bailiffs, Peter takes a steam ship which is wrecked. He is washed ashore in America and found by Yankees who take him to the local magistrate.


I LEFT my native shore last May ;
A steam ship swept me through the ocean,
Over mighty hills of sea;
Of which, dear Pat, you have no notion.
The thunders rowled, the billows howled-
The storm growled, I yowled beside them-
The lightning flashed, the ingins smashed ;
The captain swore that ills betide him.

(Spoken). Och, Paddy avourneen(1) ! that was the day of sorrow intirely : I thought id was all up wid me ; and so it was ; for, conshumin' to the bit, bite, or sup, I let down for siven years afore, that didn't cum gallopin' up, and makin its escape, as if a whole brigade of polis was shootin' and proddin' it afore them : id tuck the most infernal canther that was ever seen : con-found me ! Paddy, bud id cum tro' me like an express through a counthry village.
In that miserable misery, I cried out-

Chorus. "Och, captain," sis I, "if here I die,
Curse the polis and bailiffs(1) ever ;
For they are they, who drove me away- [Note 056.1]
I'll never forgive them ; curse them!-never."

Up went the ship ; " oh dear I" sis I ;
Up went my accounts that very minnit ; [Note 056.2]
Then down to ------------- ! or very nigh,
I thought, by gosh I was half-way in it.
The big waves broke our mast of smoke, [Note 056.3]
It was no joke, at dead of night, then ;
For sails and riggin' ; both danced a jig in
The gale, beneath the moon's dim light, then.

(Spoken). Oh, by the powers ! Paddy, id was the d.--'s own wady-bucketty ; shure enuff : one minnit we wor catchin' " Mother Cary's chickens," [Note 056.9]
amongst the tundher and lightnin', up stairs in the clouds ; and the neit, "our poor devoted bark" [Note 056.4] was dancing a horn-pipe on the back of a whale, as large as the Plains of Connamarah, at the bottom of the grea, deep.
There is no use in talkin,' Paddy-the waves bet Banaher, [Note 056.5]
aye, an' bet our unfortunate ship to baby rags, with a vengeance. In that miserable misery I cried out-

Och, captain, &c.

The captain cried "mate" I shouted "dhrink ;"
The ship has struck-shell go assundher-
We reel upon the grave's thin brink ;
That moment our cargo was boults of tundher,
The ingins melted, the hail-stones pelted ;
And faith I felt it, dear Paddy, quarely ;
The vessel parted, and so I started
For shore, on my stick, that morning early.

(Spoken). Och, millia murther(1)
Paddy asthore id was terrible to hear the tundher firing away as iv there wasn't a tar gate in the whole world, for id, bud our poor ship : id bet the peelers(1) 'shootin' all to pieces, (do ye take ?) bad scrant(1) to the bit, dear brother, bud if you was to see me hidin' in the great big chimney, like a pick-led herring, [Note 056.6]
 (for the win blew id down,) bud you'd pity me above all things. Id was in this miserable misery, peepin' out of the great tube, I cried out-

Och, captain, &c.

I lay quite dead upon the strand ;
The Yankees(1) found me like Gul'ver long ago,
Choaked with pits of filthy sand : [Note 056.7]
They spooned it out, as this my song shew,
I'm now quite well, but cannot tell
How does poor Nell, I love'd so long, tho',
You can write, to-morrow night,
And tell you'r ever, Peter Strongbow.

(Spoken). Dead as a door nail, Paddy, my belly as full of salt wather as if I was begotten an' born in the deep oshun ; an' my mouth as full of mud an' sand as it used to be wid the praties(1) and milk, long ago ; an' every, bit of life smothered in me, lyin' like a hake on the shore, fryin' undher the 'Merikin sun.-
Firein' to the bit o' me knew where I was, 'tal a batch av Yankee doodles [Note 056.8] cum acrass me and hoist me away a-fore a majisthrate to give an account ov myself.
Och the divil a ha'porth I could tell him, bekase av the stuffing ; do you see ?
So in this miserable misery, I cried out-

Och, brother, &c.

J. F.