The Spook Ballads

The daylight dreams of many a time,

When song, and rhythmic story,

Were tuned, and voiced for Bigot, and in gay Bohemian ears,

Bring welcome wraiths of joyous nights, thro' whirling clouds of glory;

The incense of the social weed, o'er spirit cup that cheers.

With hail! to Cycle speedmen, and the boaters of Dunleary,

Clontarf, and the Harmonic, where we sang with midnight chimes,

The smokers of Conservatives, and Liberal Unions cheery,

I weave regretful tribute to their jovial social times;

For autumn gales of life have blown those festal hours asunder,

And scattered far by land and sea, the steps of many a one,

And some alas! beneath the sod, for evermore gone under,

Have left a rainbow thro' the mist of grief that they have won.

But slantha! to the hearts, and hands, of those who yet remaining,

Do carry down traditions of that bright Bohemian throng,

And slantha! to the soulful sheen, of life-light never waning

From Old Eblana's heaven of her social art, and song.

And here's to all Bohemians, of whatever rank, or station,

Whatever tint, or black or tan, or creed you are by birth,

Sweet voices of the earth's romance, of every land, or nation,

Hail! brothers, in the carnival of music, song, and mirth:

So fill we tankards, or the glass, for draught with lusty cheering,

Of honor to a crowning toast, with greeting heart and hand,

As everlasting goal, for letters, art, and song, and beering,

Hip, hip, hurrah! vive! hoc! and skoal! to Fleet Street and the Strand!