by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)

Roddy More the rover
Language: English 
Of all the rovin' Jacks that e'er to Farranfone came over
As paramount I'd surely count ould Roddy More the Rover;
Wid steeple hat and stiff cravat and nate nankeen knee breeches
Aud on his back a pedlar's pack just rowlin' o'er with riches.

(For so it was when o'er the hill his coat-tails they'd come flyin'
The sharpest tongue of all was still, the crossest child quit cryin',
Ould women even left their tay, ould men their glass of toddy,
An' spoon in hand, a welcome grand would wave and wave to Roddy.)

Then when his treasures he'd unlade in view of all the village,
In from her milkin' ran the maid, each boy from out the tillage,
The while the rogue, in each new vogue, the lasses he'd go drapin',
Until their lads his ribbons, plaids and rings had no escapin'.

Now whist your noise and take your toys, cried he, "My darlin' childer;
Or my best ballads wid your prate ye'll woefully bewilder."
Then his "Come-all-ye's" he'd advance wid such a fine comether
That you might say he took away your since and pince together.

(But there of all the roamin' Jack's that trass the country over,
Far paramount I'd ever count ould Roddy More the Rover.
For deed an' I believe that when his sperrit parts his body,
If he's allowed, he'll draw a crowd in Heaven itself, will Roddy.

Authorship

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)


Researcher for this text: Mike Pearson

This text was added to the website: 2016-09-13
Line count: 20
Word count: 234