Cruel Fate has perplexed me, but still I'll defeat her."
"Stop," said Flanagan John, "little Patrick will go,—
Every turn in the wood he from instinct must know;
And besides, I've been waiting I don't know how long,
For the treat you just promised—a comical song."
"Well," said Murphy, "I fear I'm not equal at present,
And a molar he eased with the quill of a pheasant;
"Not quite wound up, I mean, for a comical strain,
Though not long in key doleful I mean to remain.
But if Pat, my young namesake, my son that's to be,