Sitting On The Bridge

Sitting on the bridge      Past the barracks, town and ridge,     At once the spirit seized us     To sing a song that pleased us -     As "The Fifth" were much in rumour;     It was "Whilst I'm in the humour,      Take me, Paddy, will you now?"      And a lancer soon drew nigh,      And his Royal Irish eye      Said, "Willing, faith, am I,     O, to take you anyhow, dears,      To take you anyhow."      But, lo! - dad walking by,      Cried, "What, you lightheels! Fie!      Is this the way you roam      And mock the sunset gleam?"      And he marched us straightway home,     Though we said, "We are only, daddy,     Singing, 'Will you take me, Paddy?'"      - Well, we never saw from then      If we sang there anywhen,      The soldier dear again,     Except at night in dream-time,      Except at night in dream.     Perhaps that soldier's fighting      In a land that's far away,     Or he may be idly plighting      Some foreign hussy gay;     Or perhaps his bones are whiting      In the wind to their decay! . . .      Ah! - does he mind him how      The girls he saw that day     On the bridge, were sitting singing     At the time of curfew-ringing,     "Take me, Paddy; will you now, dear?      Paddy, will you now?"     GREY'S BRIDGE.