Sabine Farmer's Serenade, The

I     'Twas on a windy night,         At two o'clock in the morning,     An Irish lad so tight,         All wind and weather scorning,     At Judy Callaghan's door.         Sitting upon the palings,     His love-tale he did pour,         And this was part of his wailings:-         Only say     You'll be Mrs. Brallaghan;         Don't say nay,     Charming Judy Callaghan.                  II     Oh! list to what I say,         Charms you've got like Venus;     Own your love you may,         There's but the wall between us.     You lie fast asleep         Snug in bed and snoring;     Round the house I creep,         Your hard heart imploring.         Only say     You'll have Mr. Brallaghan;         Don't say nay,     Charming Judy Callaghan.                 III     I've got a pig and a sow,         I've got a sty to sleep 'em     A calf and a brindled cow,         And a cabin too, to keep 'em;     Sunday hat and coat,         An old grey mare to ride on,     Saddle and bridle to boot,         Which you may ride astride on.         Only say     You'll be Mrs. Brallaghan;         Don't say nay,     Charming Judy Callaghan.                  IV     I've got an acre of ground,         I've got it set with praties;     I've got of 'baccy a pound,         I've got some tea for the ladies;     I've got the ring to wed,         Some whisky to make us gaily;     I've got a feather bed         And a handsome new shillelagh.         Only say     You'll have Mr. Brallaghan;         Don't say nay,     Charming Judy Callaghan.                  V     You've got a charming eye,         You've got some spelling and reading     You've got, and so have I,         A taste for genteel breeding;     You're rich, and fair, and young,         As everybody's knowing;     You've got a decent tongue         Whene'er 'tis set a-going.         Only say     You'll be Mrs. Brallaghan;         Don't say nay,     Charming Judy Callaghan.                  VI     For a wife till death         I am willing to take ye;     But, och! I waste my breath,         The devil himself can't wake ye.     'Tis just beginning to rain,         So I'll get under cover;     To-morrow I'll come again,         And be your constant lover.         Only say     You'll be Mrs. Brallaghan;         Don't say nay,     Charming Judy Callaghan.