THE RAMBLING SOW FROM GARRYGLASS

THE RAMBLING SOW FROM GARRYGLASS

There is a man in Garryglass, who keeps a rambling sow,

His name I will not mention for fear ‘twould cause a row.

Some of the sow’s adventures now to you I will relate,

She got hungry on a winter’s day; she had nothing for to ate.

Says the sow to her companion, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do,

Our owner, he cannot afford to feed both me and you.

The winter is so awful hard, the snow lies on the grass,

And for a feed of potatoes I’ll steer down to Garryglass.”

“Like every cute and cunning fox, when I set out to roam,

I will not do much damage ‘till I get away from home.

I’m feeling tired and hungry now and sorely in the need,

I’ll go into Leahy’s garden and raise a handy feed.”

When her appetite was satisfied, she started for a walk,

She had scarcely left the garden when she heard Mick Leahy talk.

“Upon my soul he’s in a fury, and by the words I hear him say,

‘Tis time for me to scuttle now and that without delay.”

“I won’t be hungry now till morn’ let me be right or wrong,

When I reach James O’Connors, my journey I’ll prolong.

I’ll stop in his hay barn where I won’t be heard or seen,

And at break of day I’ll be away to O’Learys of Cooneen”

‘Twas snowing in the morning when the big old sow awoke,

She started off for O’Learys, the day was hardly broke.

She went into the haggard, and ‘twas there she swore an oath,

That she’d have a handy feed upon O’Leary’s stack of oats.

The stack was made so tasty and the sheaves so neatly bound,

She pulled the butt from underneath and knocked it to the ground.

Her work she soon accomplished, and to herself did say,

“I think I’ll have it nearly threshed before the break of day”.

When ‘she had it threshed and scattered, she prepared for to depart,

She said, “The damage I have done will break O’Leary’s heart.”

She shouted against O’Leary and all his bloody race,

And then as quick as lightening she left the blooming place.

When O’Leary heard the shouting, he woke up from a doze,

He shouted down to Lipton for to put on his clothes,

“Get up there quick and lively and see who is outside,

They shouted here against me, and all my race defied.”

“By my soul I won’t” said Lipton, “for you could never tell,

It might be a stroke I’d get, let them shout away to hell.

You’re there above me now, awake, while I am mad for sleep,

And if you want to know them, get up and have a peep.”

Now, O’Leary he was savage and that without a doubt,

To think his faithful servant was not one bit knocked about.

The sow proceeded on her way to Ballycarron dance,

And when she saw the company she boldly did advance.

She was soon among the dancers and to them she did appeal,

“If you have no objection, boys, I’ll get up and dance a reel.”

They told her she was welcome every Sunday of the year,

The music it was played up and the boys began to cheer.

She finished up her dancing like a dandy from the west,

And of all the ramblers came the way, the auld sow was the best.

It was then in grand politeness, she bade them all goodbye,

She asked where she would meet a pub as she felt very dry.

They quickly satisfied her, and homeward she did steer,

She called into Matt the Barracks, and drank a pint of beer.

She then resumed her journey, as bitter as a mule,

She was running down at Foxes Cross, when she met old Tom of Coole.

He told her he had potatoes in a garden there below,

“If the frost it holds much longer, I’m afraid they all will go.”

I’d be sorry, now”, the sow replied, “but often ‘twas the case

I saw in all my travels they are gone in every place”.

“I hope that yours they will escape, ‘twould grieve me for to hear

Your potatoes would be frost-bitten, and provisions gone so dear.”

They both then separated, as it began to snow,

And Tom proceeded homewards as fast as he could go.

‘Twas little he was thinking what this auld sow was doing,

While he was sitting at the fire that she would be his ruin.

She went into the garden for to finish up her work,

She tore the pit asunder like any hungry Turk.

She scattered all the spuds about and her hunger it was great

She gobbled up the best ones, all that she could eat

She left the rest to take the frost, and homeward she did stroll,

For fear of being captured and sent to Limerick jail.

But this auld sow is salted now and she lies in the stan,

‘Twas a pity for to kill her, ‘twas a shame for any man

You may read about some daring deeds, being done by sword or gun,

But you never heard such thrilling tales, as the rambling sow had done.