The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1882-07-27
PAT IN SPIRIT LIFE.

It's myself that's been waiting this many a day
To spnke to yees people jist over the bay;
But when got ready some glntleman foine q
Would say. my good man. be jist biding
your time.
so Il few day ago, says |, Col. my boy.
Is 1t yees that would be depriving my sowl of
its jOyt
Faith. now. to be honest the first rainy day
I'll lie controlling the madium and h aving me
That's what WILL
From that day to this me sowls been ablazo,
Jst watching my chances. howly mother be
praised.
Till jist now. when the madtum was taking his
Say !. mister nadium. Ill control If ye phase
At last got howld of his hand and his arm:
Believe me. it's myself that will not do yses
harm:
But jist spaka the tiu'h. WILL by my sowl,
And tell yees tho facts bout this beautiful
world
That's jist what will
It's moity foine living here. it is to be sure,
With all things provided for both rich and
poor;
But the beauty of all is the equality seem
No partiality shown to the orange or green;
We all fare aloike. whether sinner or saint,
It's meself that enjoys it-no chance for COM
plant.
Remember when was dressed in my old form
CT clay,
1t was moity hard living to work by the day
That's jist what it was.
What beautiful scenery |! ,Oh could yees behold
The high towering mountains, with their
caps Of bright gold;
The rivers and streams that flow on to the sea-
With their murmuring music. and the fishes
to see
On the white sandy. bottom, the water so clear
Loike rivers of glass, that's how they appear;
And think the apostle must have had a swate
drame
When. in spirit, he travelled those mountains
and streams
That's what do.
And tho people. so happy, thank God for his
For making the ould world and this beautiful
place.
It's meself that enj ,ys it, SO grand and so foine
And bid yees all welcome TO our fair sunny
cloime.
How can yees. loike sinners. be eating and
drinking,
In that old earthly casket. and not ever think
What a swate bit of country lies over the wav-
It's but nights journey, then dawns the new
day
That's what it does.
moind very well, when a lump Of a boy,
OF the visions and dreams that me sowl would
annoy,
And the talk of the priests-what a misguided
pack,
Their schames even now drive the chills down
me back.
Thank God we don't want them nor any mans
creeds-
It's poor comfort yen find by jlst counting
yer beads;
Ye had better be working with shovel and
spade
God made.
That's what it is.
Don't be listening to men when there Is spirits
about
That can tell yees the truth. and drive away
doubt;
It's meself that knows of it, tho truth will tell
If yell only do right, never fear of II hell;
| If yees don't take to larning no PRAYERS Of the
priest
Can lift you one foot, give reliefin the least
| It's moind ye must look to, each one for self,
BY trusting the priests yen get laid ON the
| shelf
| That's what ye will.
Though man of no learning. perhaps ye can
| see
But am one of the happiest that e'er crossed
| the sea
| To think that Mike Dorrity's name should ap
| pear
In a newspaper again, after many a year,
| When all me rotations are mourning me dead
| And keep counting their beads by the stone
at me head,
| While its msself that's climbing the ladder O
fame,
| In the swate land of spirits-thank God TO
the same,
That's what Pm doing"
NIKE DoRRITY, if ye phase