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| "Glast-on-Berry Ruins" |
days of
Good King
Harry*
(sing,
"Derry,
down, down
derry...")
*That's
Harry
One: no
hare, he --
no
Lily-
Liver'd
Larry -- ...
when
Norman
yeomen,
merrie,
made
Saxon
maidens
wary,
there
ran a
rill rouged
cherry
which
wash'd well-
wooded
prairie
whose
trees did
berries
carry --
one
lesser
tribu-
tary
to
ruby'd
River
Quarey.
'Twas
baptized
Beck o'
Berry...
but
(derry
down, down,
derry)
let
not my
telling
tarry.
Be-
hind its
estu-
ary
lay,
once, a
monas-
tery.
'Twas
founded
out of
Kerry --
from
Kerry's
local
dairy
(run
strictly
cash 'n'
carry
to
service
Tipper-
ary) --
this
house of
Glast the
Hairy --
the
former
mercen-
ary
turn'd
wand'ring
mission-
ary --
where
mendi-
cants aged
sherry
and,
tho' of
Vikings
chary,
thought
life to
rarely
vary.
A-
lack! One
Febru-
ary,
fate
lapp'd the
ordi-
nary:
a
bout of
beri-
beri,
de-
liv'rin'
punch 'n'
parry
('mongst
symptoms:
dysen-
tery,
a
corro-
lary
scary),
o'er-
fill'd Glast's
ceme-
tery,
jam-
pack'd the
mortu-
ary
and
turn'd life
(derr, down,
derry)
ex-
ceeding
dreary...
very!
But
whoa! Tall
tales grow
airy.
She
becks -- the
Bedtime
Faerie.
Still,
whilst I
use the
jerry,
which,
nights, be
custom-
ary,
pray
pray a
hale "Hail,
Mary..."
for
blasted
Glast-on-
Berry!
