No spies can match them,
No sentries watch them,
No specials catch them or mar their play,
While the clever Cork men
And cute New York men
Work new surprises by night and day.
Sedate and steady,
Calm, quick, and ready,
They boldly enter, and make no din.
Where'er such trifles
As Snider rifles
And bright six-shooters are stored within.
The Queen's round towers
Can't baulk their powers,
Off go the weapons by sea and shore,
To where the Cork men
And smart New York men
Are daily piling their precious store.
John Bull, in wonder,
With voice like thunder,
Declares such plunder he roust dislike,
They next may rowl in
And sack Haulbowline,
Or on a sudden run off with Spike.
His peace is vanished,
His joys are banished,
And gay or happy no more he'll be,
Until those Cork men
And wild New York men
Are sunk together beneath the sea.
Oh, bold New York men
And daring Cork men,
We own your pleasures should all grow dim,
On thus discerning
And plainly learning
That your amusement gives pain to _him_.
Yet, from the nation,
This salutation
Leaps forth, and echoes with thunderous sound--
"Here's to all Cork men,
Likewise New York men,
Who stand for Ireland, the world around!"
But Captain Mackay, skilful and "lucky" as he was, was trapped at last.
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