So he trundled on before them with a bad look in his eye.
Then, as suddenly the whistling and the bantering shouting ceased
And a solemn hush denoted the arrival of the priest,
Would a fine “good Catholic” thunder “Yerra, shame upon you, man!
Pull one side there, Pat O’Brien, with your Old Mass Shandrydan.”
Pull! Bedad, he’d pull the town down when His Reverence hove in sight,
Pulled his hat off with the left hand, and pipe out with the right;
Pulled his family in the gutter, pulled the horses off their feet,
And a shower of small O’Briens went skedaddling from the seat.
Then they rattled loudly past us, and a wild stampede began,