“‘Can you play “Croppies Lie Down”?’
“‘I cannot, your hanner; my fingers never learnt to play
such a blackguard tune; but if ye wish to hear “Croppies Get Up” I can oblige ye.’
“‘You are a Roman Catholic, I suppose?’
“‘I am not, your hanner—I am a Catholic to the backbone, just like my father before me. Come, your hanner, shall I play ye “Croppies Get Up”?’
“‘No,’ said I; ‘It’s a tune that doesn’t please my ears. If, however, you choose to play “Croppies Lie Down,” I’ll give you a shilling.’
“‘Your hanner will give me a shilling?’
“‘Yes,’ said I, ‘if you play “Croppies Lie Down”: but you know you cannot play it, your fingers never learned the tune.’
“‘They never did, your hanner; but they have heard it played of ould by the blackguard Orange fiddlers of Dublin on the first of July, when the Protestant boys used to walk round Willie’s statue on College Green—so if your hanner gives me the shilling they may perhaps bring out something like it.’
“‘Very good,’ said I; ‘begin!’