LITMIR.BIZ

      Oh! the master is proud of the old broad-horn,

      For it brings him plenty of tin;

      Oh! the crew they are darkies, the cargo is corn,

      And the money comes tumbling in.

      There is plenty on board for the darkies to eat,

      And there’s something to drink and to smoke;

      There’s the banjo, the bones, and the tambourine,

      There’s the song, and the comical joke.

      Oh! the river is up, and the channel is deep,

      And the wind blows steady and strong;

      Let the splash of your oars the measure keep,

      As we row the old boat along.

      Say, my lovely friends, have you any pity

      At your finger-ends? then listen to my ditty.

      Our Kate has gone away, last Thursday night we miss’d her;

      Good people do not smile, – say, Have you seen my sister?

      If you have her seen, I hope you will advise her

      To return to me, or I must advertise her;

      Her waist is very thick, her stays give her a twister,

      Now tell me, b’hoys and g’hals, Have you seen my sister?

      She squints with both her eyes, in a manner very shocking,

      She’s got a mouth for pies, and wears no shoes or stockings;

      I’m afraid she’s gone astray, and some chap did enlist her,

      I’m afraid she’s gone for good; say, Have you seen my sister?

      She wants her two front teeth, you’d see it when she’d titter.

      She’s got such little feet, Victoria’s shoes won’t fit her;

      She wears no cap at all, but a great big muslin whister,

      Now tell me once for all, Have you seen my sister?

      Her figure’s straight and tall, her conduct’s very proper;

      She’s well provided, for she’s eighteen pence in copper.

      Now if you have her seen, you never could forget her,

      For she’s very much like me; now, Have you seen my sister?

      Her mouth is very small, her nose is straight and natty,

      I tell you once for all, this girl is very pretty

      Now I’ll sing you another song, and it shall be a twister,

      If you will go with me, and help me find my sister.

      Now white folks I’ll sing you a ditty,

      I’se from home, but dat’s no pity,

      Oh, to praise myself it am a shame,

      But Robert Ridley is my name.

      Oh, Bob Ridley ho, Oh, Bob Ridley ho,

      Oh, Bob Ridley! Oh! Oh!! Oh!!!

      ROBERT RIDLEY HO!

      Oh, white folks I hab cross’d de mountains

      How many miles I didn’t count ’em,

      Oh, I’se left de folks at de old plantation

      An’ come down here for my edecation.

      De first time dat I eber got a licken,

      ’Twas down at de forks ob de cotton picken;

      Oh! it made me dance, it made me tremble,

      I golly, it made my eyeballs jingle.

      New York City am a mighty fine one,

      For beauty and location it ain’t behind none;

      Oh! de ladies all look so sweet and gidley,

      Wonder dey don’t fall in love wid old Bob Ridley.

      Oh! did you ne’er hear of Kate Kearney?

      She lives on the banks of Killarney:

      From the glance of her eye, shun danger and fly,

      For fatal’s the glance of Kate Kearney.

      For that eye is so modestly beaming,

      You ne’er think of mischief she’s dreaming;

      Yet, oh! I can tell, how fatal’s the spell,

      That lurks in the eye of Kate Kearney.

      O should you e’er meet this Kate Kearnev,

      Who lives on the bank of Killarney,

      Beware of her smile, for many a wile

      Lies hid in the smile of Kate Kearney.

      Though she looks so bewitchingly simple,

      Yet there’s mischief in every dimple;

      And who dares inhale her sigh’s spicy gale,

      Must die by the breath of Kate Kearney.

      Oh, yes, I have seen this Kate Kearney,

      Who lives near the lake of Killarney;

      From her love-beaming eye, what mortal can fly,

      Unsubdued by the glance of Kate Kearney?

      For that eye so seducingly meaning,

      Assures me of mischief she’s dreaming;

      And I feel ’tis in vain to fly from the chain

      That binds me to lovely Kate Kearney.

      At eve when I’ve met this Kate Kearney,

      On the flower-mantled banks of Killarney,

      Her smile would impart thrilling joy to my heart,

      As I gaz’d on the charming Kate Kearney.

      On the banks of Killarney reclining,

      My bosom to rapture resigning,

      I’ve felt the keen smart of love’s fatal dart,

      And inhal’d the warm sigh of Kate Kearney.

      Home again, home again,

      From a foreign shore;

      And, oh, it fills my soul with joy,

      To meet my friends once more

      Here I dropp’d the parting tear,

      To cross the ocean’s foam;

      But now I’m once again with those

      Who kindly greet me home.

      Happy hearts, happy hearts,

      With mine have laugh’d in glee,

      But, oh, the friends I loved in youth

      Seem happier to me.

      And if my guide should be the fate

      Which bids me longer roam,

      But

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