Sir John Carr
Sir John Carr Poems
Epigram On Winning A Young Lady’s Money At Cards
How fairly Fortune all her gifts imparts;
We win your money, Ann, and you our hearts.
An Irish Song
Poor Molly O'Flannagan (Lord rest her soul!)
Drank so deeply of whiskey, 'twas thought she would die;
Her fond lover, Pat, from her
And stepp'd into Dublin to buy her a pie.
Oh! poor Molly O'Flannagan!
Tho' chin-deep in sorrow, yet fun he lov'd well;