enter Dennis O’Bogg, with arms and accoutrements as a british soldier—knapsack at his back—sings without.
Song.
There was an irish lad,
Who loved a cloister’d nun;
And it made him very sad,
For what was to be done:
He thought it was a big shame, a most confounded sin,
That she could not get out at all and he could not get in;
Yet he went ev’ry day, he could do nothing more,
Yet he went ev’ry day to the convent door,
And he sung sweetly Smalilou,
Gramachre! and Paddy Whack.
To catch a glimpse at her,
He play’d a thousand tricks,
The bolts he tried to stir,
And he gave the wall some kicks:
He stamp’d, and raved, and sigh’d, and pray’d, and many times he swore,
The devil burn the iron bolts—the devil take the door,
Yet he went ev’ry day, he made it a rule,
He went ev’ry day and look’d like a fool,
And he very sweetly sung Smalilou, &c.
One morn she left her bed,
Because she could not sleep,
And to the window sped,
To take a little peep;
And what did she do then? I’m sure you’ll think it right,
She bade the honest lad good day, she bade the nuns good night;
Tenderly she listen’d to all he had to say,
Then jump’d into his arms, and so they ran away.
And they sung sweetly Smalilou, &c.
O’Bogg. Devil burn the fashion, but this trotting with a full knapsack on an empty stomach is apt to make a man’s back ache with hunger. (takes off the knapsack) So, I have supported you long enough—let’s see what you can do to support me. (sits, opens his pack and takes out some cold boil’d potatoes) What, have I nothing left but wall fruit? not a delicate piece of ration beef? or a savory rind of bacon? well, they say hunger makes sauce to a man’s meat. I wonder couldn’t it make meat to his sauce. (eats)
enter Paulding, Van Vert, and Williams
Will. Who the nation have we got there? a fish out of water!
O’Bogg. And he sweetly sung smalilou, &c. &c.
Will. No, dang it, he’s a humming bird.
Pauld. You seize his arms. (Williams takes possession of Dennis’ musket)
Van V. I’m afraid we shall spoil his singing. (Paulding and Van Vert advance one on each side with bayonets presented towards Dennis’ breast)
O’Bogg. “One morn she left her bed, because she could’nt sleep.” (singing)
Pauld. You’re a prisoner!
O’Bogg. (after looking round with great indifference) You may put up your knives and forks, gentlemen, (pointing to the bayonets) the devil of any carving is there to do.
Van V. You are our prisoner!
O’Bogg. Will you ate a potatoe?
Will. Civil enough! have you nothing better for dinner?
O’Bogg. (rises) You may say that; for I ate all the best part of my dinner for breakfast. It’s a trick my daddy learnt me. “Dennis,” says he, for my name’s Dennis O’Bogg, at your sarvice; “Dennis,” says he—I had just then began to nibble at the tail of a salt herring, “Dennis,” says he——
Will. Your daddy was very fond of your name; what else did he say.
O’Bogg. Always ate the best first, my boy, and you’ll ate the best last.
Van V. Soldier, are you alone?
O’Bogg. I should be sorry to say so much in your presence. But before the company came to dinner, the devil a christian soul was there here but I and the potatoes.
Will. Dang my buttons, this fellow has fun in him—how the nation came you here all alone like a cat in a strange garret? are you a deserter?
O’Bogg. You may say that—saving any imputation on my honor. The short and the long of the story is, I never could be settled in any one place,m but what with whiskey and love it grew too hot for me. So finding how your general Arnold is treated by sir Henry Clinton, at York, with honor and command, I thought I might as well get rid of my little inconveniences, for they will be springing up round an irishman, like mushrooms round a dunghill.
Pauld. What do you mean by little inconveniences?
O’Bogg. O, debts, and children, and wives, and such like articles. So I thought I would come and take a little fresh air in the country here, join your army a bit and claim equal rank.
Will. Rank! ha—ha—ha!—what rank? what the deuce had you to do with rank.
O’Bogg. Rank! ay to be sure! rank and file too!
Van V. We shall be glad of a strong and well equip’d soldier; but before we take you into our mess, we
should be glad to hear you give good reasons for quitting New-York?
O’Bogg. Oh, then you shall have more than one.—First, by mere accident I found I had two wives in the garrison.
Will. Two wives! You needn’t say no more.
Pauld. How did that happen?
O’Bogg. Without the least intention on my part—I had but just got married, t’other day, when my widow came from Letterkenny to seek me.
Van. V. Your widow! how your widow?
O’Bogg. Fait, hadn’t she lost her husband? and doesn’t that make a widow any time?
Will. Now give us your second reason for running away.
O’Bogg. Becase, general sir Henry Clinton gives good encouragement for it.
Pauld. He encourages our soldiers to go and join him, but certainly he doesn’t encourage desertion among his own troops.
O’Bogg. And a’n’t that now the same thing? if it’s as broad as tis long, won’t it be square? if he invites your folks to come to him, doesn’t he invite his own folks to go to you? isn’t that plain now?
Pauld. Not plain enough for my eyes.
O’Bogg. Arrah then put on your spectacles. Talking of spectacles puts me in mind of my mammy.
Will. She wore spectacles, I guess.
O’Bogg. No, she couldn’t; she had no nose.
Van V. How did spectacles remind you of her then?
O’Bogg. Be azy and I’ll tell you. When my brother Teddy was hanging up in a hempen necklace, “oh, what a spectacle!” says my mammy. “Dont blubber and howl so, mammy.” says I, “see they’re just stringing brother Phelim, and then you’ll have a pair of spectacles, and all of your own making.”
Will. And how the dickens comes it they didn’t hang you too?
O’Bogg. Becase, when my two twin brothers broke into the church, I was so drunk I couldn’t go with them.
Van V. You’re a precious fellow.
O’Bogg. You may say that.
Will. What did your brothers go into the church for, Dennis?
O’Bogg. And you may ax that. If they had kept in the way of their parents, as all good and dutiful children ought to do, and only have gone to the ale house, they might have been as pretty boys at this present spaking as our humble servant, Dennis O’Bogg.
Van V. Dennis, are you most knave or foll?
O’Bogg. I believe I’m between both. But if I was to speak the honest truth, to-day——
Van V. What would you say?
O’Bogg. Something I might be asham’d of to-morrow.
Will. Come, let’s move on to the camp. We’ll carry your arms for you, though.
O’Bogg. Fait and I’d thank you if you’d carry my legs too.