(Except when a wild flower its sweetness entwined),
'Twas wafted about by the impudent wind.
Then their eyes, black as sloes, with a sweet sunny smile,
Would surely your thoughts for a moment beguile,
And cause you, though hurried, to tarry awhile
To ask the best way to the neighbouring town,
Or frame some excuse from your horse to get down
Just to look at the view from a picturesque stile
Of these two lovely daughters of Erin's green isle.
The widow's fourth child was a delicate boy,