"I'll be after giving you what'll make your old hearts bump right
merrily, if it doesn't set your heels agoing," and, putting his riddle
to his chin, he began playing one of his merriest airs.
"Arrah now, but that's a brave tune," cried the old woman, beginning to
shuffle her feet, though she hadn't much elasticity in her limbs.
"It's a song we're after wanting," cried the gate-keeper; "shure you'll
give us a song, gentlemen?"
"Well, you shall have one to begin with, and you shall have a dozen when
we come back from the wedding," cried Fitz, and he struck up--
"As beautiful Kitty one morning was tripping
With a pitcher of milk from the fair of Coleraine,
When she saw me she stumbled,
The pitcher it tumbled,
And all the sweet buttermilk water'd the plain.
"`Och! what shall I do now?
'Twas looking at you now;
Sure, sure, such a pitcher I'll ne'er meet again;
'Twas the pride of my dairy,
Och, Barney McCleary,
You're sent as a plague to the girls of Coleraine.'"
So Fitz ran on, verse after verse, and tune after tune, till he stopped
for want of breath.
Highly delighted, the old pikeman insisted on shaking us all round by
the hand, and then, running in, brought us out a glass of whisky each.
He was much surprised to find Denis and I declined taking it. Daley,
however, prevented his feelings being offended by singing another song.
Then Larry gave them a second tune on the fiddle, which pleased him
still more, and he set to work with Phil to put to rights the harness,
which had been considerably disarranged by the prancing of our steeds.