An old tailor named Tallon was in the habit of making clothes in the neighbors houses & one day he was working at a house in Rathgorra. When he went there the man of the house wasn't at home so his wife said that she would go to Aughrim for the stuff if he would mind the baby in the cradle & give it some bread when it would cry & the old man said he would. When she was gone he heard a noise behind him & he looked round & saw the baby rise up in the cradle & politely asked him "Is she gone". He got a terrible fright & he said "She is". "Would you like to hear a tune" says the baby. "I would" says the tailor. "Hand me down that

(Had no idea of the meaning of the Irish phrases nor did ? ? to the ? ? they were Irish at all) "Sit up on the high seat, Paddy ------ you'll surely be a clergy" (clahrgy) High seat of sods of turf.
When she or any of the neighbours suffer a small loss.
Mrs Ryan "Tisn't the loss of Aughrim".
The Lyods lived there down near Jim Bán's back gate. They were Protestants but very well educated. They used to go to every corpse house for sport to listen to the old women 'caoin'-ing. They were at one corpse - house, they told me, & the woman of the house stood on the bed caoining her man that was dead on the bed 'Muise, Jack' says she ; if you knew the length of my stocking you'd never die' (that is, you know, if he knew how much money she had). In another house the woman was keeping the man that was gone : 'You were a fine decent man, Seán. You never went inside a neighbours ditch ti cul as much as the buadceán of a flail'.

side. Fast back unto those battered I spurred with eagles flight and on to-morrow did resume a more fierce and deadly fight.
Like Rome's fair maids the women fought and cut their flowing hair to tic the ball that sweethearts won and Saxons once to tear.
I've read of France and Greece and Spain, and of their famous deeds
But Limerick on that glorious day in valor far exceeds.
Who would be right to shirk a fight
When dwelt such womanhood.
Up to their waists I've seen them wade, in streams of precious blood.
The seige was raised the English flew in terror to Athlone, while five hundred of the thousand dead on the Shannon bank lay slain.
What followed the I need not tell how Ruth at Aughrim fell.

I see mine Aughrim hillls and brakes
Her glancing streams and moonlit lakes;
And hills of Creve, in distance far,
Majestic rise, 'neath evening star;
Killtrustan's hills and Drummin's shore,
Mahanagh's braes I pace them o'er,
Nor can they still from vision fade -
In mem'ries varied hues arrayed. I still, as in the long ago,
Behold the Shannon's placid flow _
However bright those scenes appear;
However dear and doubly dear;
However sweet they sound in song,
Lov'd scenes where I would linger long.
There's something still to cause a gloom _
To smite contentment's balmy bloom. That long - lov'd light that Freedom throws
To raise a land, to smite her foes,
Is lifeless still or beam so low
We deem its fireless, sparkless glow.