Knight of the White Elephant of Burmah William McGonagall

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay! Alas! I am very sorry to say That ninety lives have been taken away On the last Sabbath day of 1879, Which will be remember’d for a very long time. ’Twas about seven o’clock at night, And the wind it blew with all its might, And the rain came pouring down, And the dark clouds seem’d to frown, And the Demon of the air seem’d to say— “I’ll blow down the Bridge of Tay.” When the train left Edinburgh The passengers’ hearts were light and felt no sorrow, But Boreas blew a terrific gale, Which made their hearts for to quail, And many of the passengers with fear did say— “I hope God will send us safe across the Bridge of Tay.” But when the train came near to Wormit Bay, Boreas he did loud and angry bray, And shook the central girders of the Bridge of Tay On the last Sabbath day of 1879, Which will be remember’d for a very long time. So the train sped on with all its might, And Bonnie Dundee soon hove in sight, And the passengers’ hearts felt light, Thinking they would enjoy themselves on the New Year, With their friends at home they lov’d most dear, And wish them all a happy New Year. So the train mov’d slowly along the Bridge of Tay, Until it was about midway, Then the central girders with a crash gave way, And down went the train and passengers into the Tay! The Storm Fiend did loudly bray, Because ninety lives had been taken away, On the last Sabbath day of 1879, Which will be remember’d for a very long time. As soon as the catastrophe came to be known The alarm from mouth to mouth was blown, And the cry rang out all o’er the town, Good Heavens! the Tay Bridge is blown down, And a passenger train from Edinburgh, Which fill’d all the people’ hearts with sorrow, And made them for to turn pale, Because none of the passengers were sav’d to tell the tale How the disaster happen’d on the last Sabbath day of 1879, Which will be remember’d for a very long time. It must have been an awful sight, To witness in the dusky moonlight, While the Storm Fiend did laugh, and angry did bray, Along the Railway Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay, Oh! ill-fated Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay, I must now conclude my lay By telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay, That your central girders would not have given way, At least many sensible men do say, Had they been supported on each side with buttresses, At least many sensible men confesses, For the stronger we our houses do build, The less chance we have of being killed.

I’m a rattling boy from Dublin town, I courted a girl called Biddy Brown, Her eyes they were as black as sloes, She had black hair and an aquiline nose. Chorus— Whack fal de da, fal de darelido, Whack fal de da, fal de darelay, Whack fal de da, fal de darelido, Whack fal de da, fal de darelay. One night I met her with another lad, Says I, Biddy, I’ve caught you, by dad; I never thought you were half so bad As to be going about with another lad. Chorus. Says I, Biddy, this will never do, For to-night you’ve prov’d to me untrue, So do not make a hullaballoo, For I will bid farewell to you. Chorus. Says Barney Magee, She is my lass, And the man that says no, he is an ass, So come away, and I’ll give you a glass, Och, sure you can get another lass. Chorus. Says I, To the devil with your glass, You have taken from me my darling lass, And if you look angry, or offer to frown, With my darling shillelah I’ll knock you down. Chorus. Says Barney Magee unto me, By the hokey I love Biddy Brown, And before I’ll give her up to thee, One or both of us will go down. Chorus. So, with my darling shillelah, I gave him a whack, Which left him lying on his back, Saying, botheration to you and Biddy Brown,— For I’m the rattling boy from Dublin town. Chorus. So a policeman chanced to come up at the time, And he asked of me the cause of the shine, Says I, he threatened to knock me down When I challenged him for walking with my Biddy Brown. Chorus. So the policeman took Barney Magee to jail, Which made him shout and bewail That ever he met with Biddy Brown, The greatest deceiver in Dublin town. Chorus. So I bade farewell to Biddy Brown, The greatest jilter in Dublin town, Because she proved untrue to me, And was going about with Barney Magee. Chorus.

It was biting cold, and the falling snow, Which filled a poor little match girl’s heart with woe, Who was bareheaded and barefooted, as she went along the street, Crying, “Who’ll buy my matches? for I want pennies to buy some meat!” When she left home she had slippers on; But, alas! poor child, now they were gone. For she lost both of them while hurrying across the street, Out of the way of two carriages which were near by her feet. So the little girl went on, while the snow fell thick and fast; And the child’s heart felt cold and downcast, For nobody had bought any matches that day, Which filled her little mind with grief and dismay. Alas! she was hungry and shivering with cold; So in a corner between two houses she made bold To take shelter from the violent storm. Poor little waif! wishing to herself she’d never been born. And she grew colder and colder, and feared to go home For fear of her father beating her; and she felt woe-begone Because she could carry home no pennies to buy bread, And to go home without pennies she was in dread. The large flakes of snow covered her ringlets of fair hair; While the passers-by for her had no care, As they hurried along to their homes at a quick pace, While the cold wind blew in the match girl’s face. As night wore on her hands were numb with cold, And no longer her strength could her uphold, When an idea into her little head came: She’d strike a match and warm her hands at the flame. And she lighted the match, and it burned brightly, And it helped to fill her heart with glee; And she thought she was sitting at a stove very grand; But, alas! she was found dead, with a match in her hand! Her body was found half-covered with snow, And as the people gazed thereon their hearts were full of woe; And many present let fall a burning tear Because she was found dead on the last night of the year, In that mighty city of London, wherein is plenty of gold— But, alas! their charity towards street waifs is rather cold. But I hope the match girl’s in Heaven, beside her Saviour dear, A bright reward for all the hardships she suffered here.

Oh mighty City of New York! you are wonderful to behold, Your buildings are magnificent, the truth be it told, They were the only thing that seemed to arrest my eye, Because many of them are thirteen storeys high. And as for Central Park, it is lovely to be seen, Especially in the summer season when its shrubberies and trees are green; And the Burns’ statue is there to be seen, Surrounded by trees, on the beautiful sward so green; Also Shakespeare and Sir Walter Scott, Which by Englishmen and Scotchmen will ne’er be forgot. There the people on the Sabbath-day in thousands resort, All loud, in conversation and searching for sport, Some of them viewing the menagerie of wild beasts there, And also beautiful black swans, I do declare. And there’s beautiful boats to be seen there, And the joyous shouts of the children do rend the air, While the boats sail along with them o’er Lohengrin Lake, And the fare is five cents for children and adults ten is all they take. And there’s also summer-house shades and merry-go-rounds, And with the merry laughter of the children the Park resounds During the livelong Sabbath day, Enjoying the merry-go-round play. Then there’s the elevated railroads, about five storeys high, Which the inhabitants can see and hear night and day passing by, Oh! such a mass of people daily do throng, No less than five hundred thousand daily pass along, And all along the City you can get for five cents, And, believe me, among the passengers there are few discontent. And the top of the houses are all flat, And in the warm weather the people gather to chat, Besides on the house-tops they dry their clothes, And also many people all night on the house-tops repose. And numerous ships and steamboats are there to be seen, Sailing along the East River Water so green; ’Tis certainly a most beautiful sight To see them sailing o’er the smooth water day and night. And Brooklyn Bridge is a very great height, And fills the stranger’s heart with wonder at first sight, But with all its loftiness, I venture to say, For beauty it cannot surpass the new Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay. And there’s also ten thousand rumsellers there, Oh! wonderful to think, I do declare! To accommodate the people of That city therein, And to encourage them to commit all sorts of sin. And on the Sabbath-day, ye will see many a man Going for beer with a tin can, And seems proud to be seen carrying home the beer To treat his neighbours and family dear. Then at night numbers of the people dance and sing, Making the walls of their houses to ring With their songs and dancing on Sabbath night, Which I witnessed with disgust, and fled from the sight. And with regard to New York and the sights I did see, One street in Dundee is more worth to me, And, believe me, the morning I sailed from New York For Bonnie Dundee, my heart it felt as light as a cork.

Greenland’s icy mountains are fascinating and grand, And wondrously created by the Almighty’s command; And the works of the Almighty there’s few can understand: Who knows but it might be a part of Fairyland? Because there are churches of ice, and houses glittering like glass, And for scenic grandeur there’s nothing can it surpass, Besides there’s monuments and spires, also ruins, Which serve for a safe retreat from the wild bruins. And there’s icy crags and precipices, also beautiful waterfalls, And as the stranger gazes thereon, his heart it appals With a mixture of wonder, fear, and delight, Till at last he exclaims, Oh! what a wonderful sight! The icy mountains they’re higher than a brig’s topmast, And the stranger in amazement stands aghast As he beholds the water flowing off the melted ice Adown the mountain sides, that he cries out, Oh! how nice! Such sights as these are truly magnificent to be seen, Only that the mountain tops are white instead of green, And rents and caverns in them, the same as on a rugged mountain side, And suitable places, in my opinion, for mermaids to reside. Sometimes these icy mountains suddenly topple o’er With a wild and rumbling hollow-starting roar; And new peaks and cliffs rise up out of the sea, While great cataracts of uplifted brine pour down furiously. And those that can witness such an awful sight Can only gaze thereon in solemn silence and delight, And the most Godfearless man that hath this region trod Would be forced to recognise the power and majesty of God. Oh! how awful and grand it must be on a sunshiny day To see one of these icy mountains in pieces give way! While, crack after crack, it falls with a mighty crash Flat upon the sea with a fearful splash. And in the breaking up of these mountains they roar like thunder, Which causes the stranger no doubt to wonder; Also the Esquimaux of Greenland betimes will stand And gaze on the wondrous work of the Almighty so grand. When these icy mountains are falling, the report is like big guns, And the glittering brilliancy of them causes mock-suns, And around them there’s connected a beautiful ring of light, And as the stranger looks thereon, it fills his heart with delight. Oh! think on the danger of seafaring men If any of these mighty mountains where falling on them; Alas! they would be killed ere the hand of man could them save And, poor creatures, very likely find a watery grave! ’Tis most beautiful to see and hear the whales whistling and blowing, And the sailors in their small boats quickly after them rowing, While the whales keep lashing the water all their might With their mighty tails, left and right. In winter there’s no sunlight there night or day, Which, no doubt, will cause the time to pass tediously away, And cause the Esquimaux to long for the light of day, So as they will get basking themselves in the sun’s bright array. In summer there is perpetual sunlight, Which fill the Esquimaux’s hearts with delight; And is seen every day and night in the blue sky, Which makes the scenery appear most beautiful to the eye. During summer and winter there the land is covered with snow, Which sometimes must fill the Esquimaux’ hearts with woe As they traverse fields of ice, ten or fifteen feet thick, And with cold, no doubt, their hearts will be touched to the quick. And let those that read or hear this feel thankful to God That the icy fields of Greenland they have never trod; Especially while seated around the fireside on a cold winter night, Let them think of the cold and hardships Greenland sailors have to fight.

’Twas in the month of December, and in the year 1883, That a monster whale came to Dundee, Resolved for a few days to sport and play, And devour the small fishes in the silvery Tay. So the monster whale did sport and play Among the innocent little fishes in the beautiful Tay, Until he was seen by some men one day, And they resolved to catch him without delay. When it came to be known a whale was seen in the Tay, Some men began to talk and to say, We must try and catch this monster of a whale, So come on, brave boys, and never say fail. Then the people together in crowds did run, Resolved to capture the whale and to have some fun! So small boats were launched on the silvery Tay, While the monster of the deep did sport and play. Oh! it was a most fearful and beautiful sight, To see it lashing the water with its tail all its might, And making the water ascend like a shower of hail, With one lash of its ugly and mighty tail. Then the water did descend on the men in the boats, Which wet their trousers and also their coats; But it only made them the more determined to catch the whale, But the whale shook at them his tail. Then the whale began to puff and to blow, While the men and the boats after him did go, Armed well with harpoons for the fray, Which they fired at him without dismay. And they laughed and grinned just like wild baboons, While they fired at him their sharp harpoons: But when struck with the harpoons he dived below, Which filled his pursuers’ hearts with woe: Because they guessed they had lost a prize, Which caused the tears to well up in their eyes; And in that their anticipations were only right, Because he sped on to Stonehaven with all his might: And was first seen by the crew of a Gourdon fishing boat, Which they thought was a big coble upturned afloat; But when they drew near they saw it was a whale, So they resolved to tow it ashore without fail. So they got a rope from each boat tied round his tail, And landed their burden at Stonehaven without fail; And when the people saw it their voices they did raise, Declaring that the brave fishermen deserved great praise. And my opinion is that God sent the whale in time of need, No matter what other people may think or what is their creed; I know fishermen in general are often very poor, And God in His goodness sent it to drive poverty from their door. So Mr John Wood has bought it for two hundred and twenty-six pound, And has brought it to Dundee all safe and all sound; Which measures 40 feet in length from the snout to the tail, So I advise the people far and near to see it without fail. Then hurrah! for the mighty monster whale, Which has got 17 feet 4 inches from tip to tip of a tail! Which can be seen for a sixpence or a shilling, That is to say, if the people all are willing.

As I stood upon London Bridge and viewed the mighty throng Of thousands of people in cabs and ’busses rapidly whirling along, All furiously driving to and fro, Up one street and down another as quick as they could go: Then I was struck with the discordant sound of human voices there, Which seemed to me like wild geese cackling in the air: And the river Thames is a most beautiful sight, To see the steamers sailing upon it by day and by night. And the Tower of London is most gloomy to behold, And the crown of England lies there, begemmed with precious stones and gold; King Henry the Sixth was murdered there by the Duke of Glo’ster, And when he killed him with his sword he called him an impostor. St. Paul’s Cathedral is the finest building that ever I did see, There’s no building can surpass it in the city of Dundee, Because it’s magnificent to behold, With its beautiful dome and spire glottering like gold. And as for Nelson’s Monument that stands in Trafalgar Square, It is a most stately monument I most solemnly declare, And towering defiantly very high, Which arrests strangers’ attention while passing by. Then there’s two beautiful water-fountains spouting up very high, Where the weary traveller can drink when he feels dry; And at the foot of the monument there’s three bronze lions in grand array, Enough to make the stranger’s heart throb with dismay. Then there’s Mr Spurgeon, a great preacher, which no one dare gainsay, I went to hear him preach on the Sabbath-day, And he made my heart feel light and gay, When I heard him preach and pray. And the Tabernacle was crowded from ceiling to floor, And many were standing outside the door; He is an eloquent preacher I honestly declare, And I was struck with admiration as on him I did stare. Then there’s Petticoat Lane I venture to say, It’s a wonderful place on the Sabbath-day; There wearing-apparel can be bought to suit the young or old, For the ready cash, silver, coppers, or gold. Oh! mighty city of London! you are wonderful to see, And thy beauties no doubt fill the tourist’s heart with glee; But during my short stay, and while wandering there, Mr Spurgeon was the only man I heard speaking proper English I do declare.

On the Gilfillan burial day, In the Hill o’ Balgay, It was a most solemn sight to see, Not fewer than thirty thousand people assembled in Dundee, All watching the funeral procession of Gilfillan that day, That death had suddenly taken away, And was going to be buried in the Hill o’ Balgay. There were about three thousand people in the procession alone, And many were shedding tears, and several did moan, And their bosoms heaved with pain, Because they knew they would never look upon his like again. There could not be fewer than fifty carriages in the procession that day, And gentlemen in some of them that had come from far away, And in whispers some of them did say, As the hearse bore the precious corpse away, Along the Nethergate that day. I’m sure he will be greatly missed by the poor, For he never turned them empty-handed away from his door; And to assist them in distress it didn’t give him pain, And I’m sure the poor will never look upon his like again. On the Gilfillan burial day, in the Hill o’ Balgay, There was a body of policemen marshalled in grand array, And marched in front of the procession all the way; Also the relatives and friends of the deceas’d, Whom I hope from all sorrows has been releas’d, And whose soul I hope to heaven has fled away, To sing with saints above for ever and aye. The Provost, Magistrates, and Town Council were in the procession that day; Also Mrs Gilfillan, who cried and sobbed all the way For her kind husband, that was always affable and gay, Which she will remember until her dying day. When the procession arrived in the Hill o’ Balgay, The people were almost as hush as death, and many of them did say— As long as we live we’ll remember the day That the great Gilfillan was buried in the Hill o’Balgay. When the body of the great Gilfillan was lowered into the grave, ’Twas then the people’s hearts with sorrow did heave; And with tearful eyes and bated breath, Mrs Gilfillan lamented her loving husband’s death. Then she dropped a ringlet of immortelles into his grave, Then took one last fond look, and in sorrow did leave; And all the people left with sad hearts that day, And that ended the Gilfillan burial in the Hill o’ Balgay.

Ye sons of Great Britain, come join with me, And sing in praise of Sir Garnet Wolseley; Sound drums and trumpets cheerfully, For he has acted most heroically. Therefore loudly his praises sing Until the hills their echoes back doth ring; For he is a noble hero bold, And an honour to his Queen and country, be it told. He has gained for himself fame and renown, Which to posterity will be handed down; Because he has defeated Arabi by land and by sea, And from the battle of Tel-el-Kebir he made him to flee. With an army about fourteen thousand strong, Through Egypt he did fearlessly march along, With the gallant and brave Highland brigade, To whom honour is due, be it said. Arabi’s army was about seventy thousand in all, And, virtually speaking, it wasn’t very small; But if they had been as numerous again, The Irish and Highland brigades would have beaten them, it is plain. ’Twas on the 13th day of September, in the year of 1882, Which Arabi and his rebel horde long will rue; Because Sir Garnet Wolseley and his brave little band Fought and conquered them on Kebir land. He marched upon the enemy with his gallant band O’er the wild and lonely desert sand, And attacked them before daylight, And in twenty minutes he put them to flight. The first shock of the attack was borne by the Second Brigade, Who behaved most manfully, it is said, Under the command of brave General Grahame, And have gained a lasting honour to their name. But Major Hart and the 18th Royal Irish, conjoint, Carried the trenches at the bayonet point; Then the Marines chased them about four miles away, At the charge of the bayonet, without dismay! General Sir Archibald Alison led on the Highland Brigade, Who never were the least afraid. And such has been the case in this Egyptian war, For at the charge of the bayonet they ran from them afar! With their bagpipes playing, and one ringing cheer, And the 42nd soon did the trenches clear; Then hand to hand they did engage, And fought like tigers in a cage. Oh! it must have been a glorious sight To see Sir Garnet Wolseley in the thickest of the fight! In the midst of shot and shell, and the cannon’s roar, Whilst the dead and the dying lay weltering in their gore. Then the Egyptians were forced to yield, And the British were left masters of the field; Then Arabi he did fret and frown To see his army thus cut down. Then Arabi the rebel took to flight, And spurred his Arab steed with all his might: With his heart full of despair and woe, And never halted till he reached Cairo. Now since the Egyptian war is at an end, Let us thank God! Who did send Sir Garnet Wolseley to crush and kill Arabi and his rebel army at Kebir hill.

Ye Sons of Great Britain! come join with me And sing in praise of the gallant British Armie, That behaved right manfully in the Soudan, At the great battle of Omdurman. ’Twas in the year of 1898, and on the 2nd of September, Which the Khalifa and his surviving followers will long remember, Because Sir Herbert Kitchener has annihilated them outright, By the British troops and Soudanese in the Omdurman fight. The Sirdar and his Army left the camp in grand array, And marched on to Omdurman without delay, Just as the brigades had reached the crest adjoining the Nile, And became engaged with the enemy in military style. The Dervishes had re-formed under cover of a rocky eminence, Which to them, no doubt, was a strong defence, And they were massed together in battle array Around the black standard of the Khalifa, which made a grand display. But General Maxwell’s Soudanese brigade seized the eminence in a short time, And General Macdonald’s brigade then joined the firing line; And in ten minutes, long before the attack could be driven home, The flower of the Khalifa’s army was almost overthrown. Still manfully the dusky warriors strove to make headway, But the Soudanese troops and British swept them back without dismay, And their main body were mown down by their deadly fire— But still the heroic Dervishes refused to retire. And defiantly they planted their standards and died by them, To their honour be it said, just like brave men; But at last they retired, with their hearts full of woe, Leaving the field white with corpses, like a meadow dotted with snow. The chief heroes in the fight were the 21st Lancers; They made a brilliant charge on the enemy with ringing cheers, And through the dusky warriors bodies their lances they did thrust, Whereby many of them were made to lick the dust. Then at a quarter past eleven the Sirdar sounded the advance, And the remnant of the Dervishes fled, which was their only chance, While the cavalry cut off their retreat while they ran; Then the Sirdar, with the black standard of the Khalifa, headed for Omdurman. And when the Khalifa saw his noble army cut down, With rage and grief he did fret and frown; Then he spurred his noble steed, and swiftly it ran, While inwardly to himself he cried, “Catch me if you can!” And Mahdism now has received a crushing blow, For the Khalifa and his followers have met with a complete overthrow; And General Gordon has been avenged, the good Christian, By the defeat of the Khalifa at the battle of Omdurman. Now since the Khalifa has been defeated and his rule at an end, Let us thank God that fortunately did send The brave Sir Herbert Kitchener to conquer that bad man, The inhuman Khalifa, and his followers at the battle of Omdurman. Success to Sir Herbert Kitchener! he is a great commander, And as skilful in military tactics as the great Alexander, Because he devised a very wise plan, And by it has captured the town of Omdurman. I wish success to the British and Soudanese Army, May God protect them by land and by sea, May he enable them always to conquer the foe, And to establish what’s right wherever they go.