These are all the old Mummers' rhymes. It was very hard to get them all. There were other rhymes before these when the mummers first came out and I may be able to get some of them.
Of course they wouldn't say all them rhymes in the one night. Only two or three and the Captains.

M'athair: When I was a young man, living in Castletown, we had a Mummers' Band. Oh! We didn't do much except all kinds of devilment. Nothing was too hot nor too heavy for us. I was St. Patrick & wore a mitre. Another member of the

right into the dung-lough instead of out on the road. The Roc reached the door & sent the [?] whissing by his ear. I tell you we didn't get next or near the Roc's house again.
But we were more civilised when we went 'collicking' to a wedding. We always staged a kind of a play at the weeding. It was St Patrick's duty to try & convert Sir John & when that gentleman refused to be convinced by theological arguement, we had recourse to arms. St Patrick of course always won & Sir John, being conquered, had to recant & swear allegiance as a true knight to the true Church."
[The mummers who attend a wedding are in Co. Carlow called "collickers" They dress up in every kind of fantastic garb in wh. feminine garments predominate They wear masks of some kind or other, speak in assumed voices & generally conduct themselves if well received, except when the match is unpopular when they appear as a rowdy [?] & remain outside & "blow" the couple. This is done by blowing through drain pipes (diameter about 2 ins). I often heard the blowing when I was young, but I think the practice is now obsolete. Before I left the County it was very much condemmed by the clergy]----
Cf. Seabac's acc of Mummers in Co. Kerry

I sent in all the old mummers' rhymes, and in one half of them where the Emperor of Russia knock down the Grand Signeor, the following is said by the former:In dow dug day ho'er day, the pig of ponts, a little frog lived in a well, a little white duck picked him up, and holem holem hook and neanenger yer present me your word and I shall fight thee him. You my tight hardy fellow you came here from the baehsede of Ireland, to be slaughtered by the Great Emeror of Russia.

The continuation of the mummers' rhymes. I have the Captains the Grand Signeors and the Emperor of Russia's rhyme written out in the first of the book.
When the Captain has announced all them mummers ending up with "Dan O Connell, he says
"As for our jovial merry men
We have them at our call
We have a band of music
which always bore the sway
So appear our great Prince George
till we hear what you've got to say.
(Enter Prince George)
Here I am the great Prince George
Old Englands Royal King
My Royal name I do proclaim

half of hangman's mercy. Two ounces of jailors pity. The wit of a weasel the wool of a frog twentyfour ounces of last novembers fog. A bundle of tailors trimmings, 3 feet 4 inches in circumference, well boiled in the bottom of a wooden iron skillet over a slow stone fire, and reduced to one single dram, well stirred with a hen's tooth and a cat's feather. Give him a taste- spoonful of it at night on the top of a windy ditch and he won't be one bit better in the morning.These are some of the mummers rhymes. I will write the rest of them later on in the end of the book. S.G.

There was a certain thing that I forgot to mention when I was writing down the doctor's rhyme
There was a set of mummers in Bridgetown one night, and they were saying the rhymes. The Emperor of Russia said the the Grand Signeor. "You infidel go down to hell, and there you'll meet your doom" Then of course he hit him with his sword, and the Grand Signeor fell. The Doctor was called in and he said his rhyme and then he went to examine the Grand Signeor, and they found that he was dead.
So they said to each other that it certainly wasn't right to say, "You infidel go down to hell, and there

The wit of a weasel. The wart of a frog. All mixed up in September fog. A glass and a half of hangman's mercy. And a bundle of tailors trimmings.
(Old Mummers Rhyme)
There was a man wan time and he had a great cocker pup. Wan day he was out hunting and he shot a snipe. The snipe fell and he sent the dog to fetch it. He went and came back again without the snipe. He threatened him and sent him off again. This time he came back with a kettle in his mouth and the snipe inside it. The snipe fell into the auld kettle.

God loved Isle, and ? shall be free from Brogan's heights to Mizin head.
From Athlone to the sea.
My tale is told my task is done no longer I'll remain.
I'll call upon Brian Boru and what he has to say.
What the Captain says when all the mummers have finished their rhymes.
Ladies and gentleman you now have heard the deeds those heroes wrought in Ireland's land of conquest won great battles they have fought. Bout if today a foreign power should rule our Saintly Isle which was ordained by God for better things.
No fraud deceit or quick.
No fault lies in each manly breast

Pat Rielly died only a short time ago. He used compose ryhmes for the Mummers, and acted the fool in a Mumming Set in Camross for a long time.
In every Mumming set there is a Darby and a Judy (a fool and an Óinseach)
The following is the Verse composed by Pat:-
Here I am a Judy's man, a beggarman of fame
I was born early wan evening and Darby is my name
I happened on Ould Judy at the Hill of Ráithín na h-Uan
And we landed at Joss Taylor's by the Rising of the Moon.We reared a great big set of boys and they were fond of fun
And between myself and Judy we taught them how to mum

Ri de dee dou diddil idle loodle lou, etc.X
Now those ould couple are dead and gone
And their bodies lie in the Shroben
But the divil a prayer was never said
For Poll and nancy Hogan.Chorus
Ri de dee dou diddil idle loodle lou, etc. The above song sung still at the Mummers' Dances. One man or two will sing and jig at the end of every verse. Three or four others will get out on the floor and dance to the jig.
It is sung to the air of "The girl I left behind me."

I bring the brave commander
With courage bold I stood
And often waded to my waist
in streams of precious blood.
Through burning sand and desert lands
And o'er the Alps we crossed
And our hands and ears were often
Badly bitten with the frost
After a gallant victory
And such a fearless toil
It's here we stand with sword in hand
On Erins lovely soil.
The praises of our Mummers Band
Throughout this Isle abound
So I hope you will good order keep
While warlike music sound