The Irish Mail Robber



It's adieu to old Ireland, the place where I was born,

Near the county of Limerick, near the state of Glengall;

Far away to some island, bound down like a slave,

It was in my own country I did misbehave.



It was my old father who did caution me,

To leave off night walking, shun bad company;

Saying, "Son, you are young and they'll lead you astray,

You will think of these words when I'm cold in the clay."



But to all his good advices I never gave care,

And still I went on with my wicked career;

'Twas drinking and gambling by night and by day

To maintain those rude "wimming"* and dress them up gay.



I had not been long in this wicked career

Before I was taken by the laws of the land;

Was tried and found guilty of a mail robbery,

And for ages transported across the salt sea.



'Tis now I'm safe landed on my own native shore,

And looking around me I can see my cell door;

And looking around me I can see my cell door,

Which causes me to think of my mother once more.



Oft times I have wondered why "wimming"* love men

More times I have wondered why men should love them;

They lead you to ruin and cause your downfall

They'll cause you to sleep behind cold prison walls.





* Women.

From New Green Mountain Songster,



@Irish @crime @jail

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