And the bowels unfit for their office;
A curse on the potheen you swallowed so free,
For a stomach complaint, all the doctors agree,
Far worse than a headache or cough is.
Death, who like a cruel and insolent bully, drubs
All those he thinks fit to attack,
Cried, ‘Dan, my tight lad, try a touch of my mulligrubs,’
Which laid him flat on his back.
“Great spirits of Broughton, Jem Belcher, and Fig,
Of Corcoran, Pearce, and Dutch Sam;