_Irish Traditional Airs._

“The Airy Bachelor.”

Oh come all ye airy bachelors, come listen unto me. A sergeant caught mefowling, and he fired his gun so free ... His comrades came to his relief, And I was soon trapanned... And bound up like a wood-cock That had fallen into their hands.

“Johnnie Gibbons.”

1.

Oh Johnnie Gibbons my five hundred healths to you, Its long you’re away from us over the sea.

2.

Oh Johnnie Gibbons its you were the prop to us, You to have left us, we’re fools put astray.

“The Lion shall lose his strength.”

Oh the Lion shall lose his strength, And the bracket thistle pine ... And the harp shall sound sweet, sweet at length Between the eight and nine.

THE HOUR-GLASS.