When they tould me I must shpake a pace,
I tried to kape a cheerful face,
Though obvious lack of matther I was mournin'!
But, oh sombre-faced JOHN MORLEY!
Ye desired to help me surely,
When ye went for Tipperary widout warnin'!
Though your tale could scarce be boulder,
Yet my hits straight from the shoulder
Will make ye mourn the hour that ye were born in.
And I think ye'll have a notion
Ye were wrong to cross the ocean,
And raise rucktions in ould Ireland in the mornin'!