How much I love you,
My dear Donoghue!
Your heart surely would melt, though it very hard aint,
And you'd try all you could to relieve my complaint."
"Well," thinks he, "I don't care,
Though in truth she's not fair;
Still there's hundreds far worse, that I'm sure."
So he said, "You're so kind,
Miss, I'd fain ease your mind;
But why did you not speak up before?