1. Don't talk to me of London dames,|
Nor rave about your foreign flames,
That never lived - except in drames,
Nor shone, except on paper;
2. I'll sing you 'bout a girl I knew
Who lived in Ballywhackmacrew,
And, let me tell you, might few
Could equal Mary Draper.
3. Her cheeks were red, her eyes were blue,
Her hair was brown of deepest hue,
Her foot was small and neat to view,
Her waist was slight and taper;
4. Her voice was music to your ear,
A lovely brogue, so rich and clear,
Oh, the like I ne'er again shall hear
As from sweet Mary Draper.
5. She'd ride a wall, she'd drive a team,
Or with a fly she'd whip a stream,
Or may-be sing you "Rousseau's dream,"
For nothing could escape her;
6. I've seen her, too - upon my word|
At sixty yards bring down her bird
Oh! she charm'd all the Forty-third!
Did lovely Mary Draper.
7. And, at the spring assizes ball,
The junior bar would, one and all,
For all her favorite dances call,
And Harry Deane would caper;
8. Lord Clare would then forget his lore;
King's counsel, voting law a bore,
Were proud to figure on the floor
For love of Mary Draper.
9. The parson, priest, sub-sheriff too,
Were all her slaves, and so would you,
If you had only but one view
Of such a face or shape, or
10. Her pretty ankles - but alone,
It's only west of old Athlone
Such girls were found
And now they're gone
So, here's to Mary Draper!
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