[From A Book of Manx Songs (for WW1 troops),1914]
FAIR maids of Mann, of foreigners beware,
For since time began, they still have been your snare;
From Orry and his Danes to Derby's merry men,
They've turned your brains, and will do so again.
Fair maids of Mann, of Hieland chiefs beware,
The chief wi' a clan, and castle up in Ayr!
Wi' philibegs and pipes, and sic-like Cupid's arts,
In tartan stripes promenading to your hearts.
Fair maids of Mann, of Fitz and O beware,
The O's from the Bann and Fitzes from Kildare;
A spell of words they weave a woman's heart will storm, :
They're kings to conceive, but beggars to perform.
Fair maids of Mann, of Engiish sparks beware,
With glass up to scan Your beauties with a stare,
Who think that for their coats of scarlet cloth so fine,
They'd be your lords if they but gave the sign.
Fair rnaids of Mann, seek not abroad to roam;
Since Life's but a span , best "husband" it at home;
Mates better than the Manx to find elsewhere you'll fail,
So give God thanks for Quilliam, Quirk, or Quayle.