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When first I saw sweet Peggy,'twas on a market day ,A low-back'd car she drove,and sat upon a truss of hay,But when that hay was blooming grass ,and deck'd with flawers of spring.No flowers were there that could compare with the lovely girl I sing.The attractive picture here conjured up is not one whit exaggerat-d ,and many a sweet peggy may still be seen on market day in any part of Ireland .It is really beyond ordinary comprehension how nature could reconcile it with the fitness of things ,to implant in a creature of so much beauty and charm,the commonplace commercial instinct. And yet,if you follow Peggy to market,ad hear her chaffering and bargainig as only an Irish girl can,you will confess that nature so far repented as to adorn the said instinct with so brilliant a wit,and so graceful a manner,that you would fain ignore its existence .Should you venture to buy any of her chickens or eggs yourself ,thus coming under the immediate influce of her bewitching eys,you will most assuredly feel that for so enchating an experience you,would gladly pay ten times the price. |
