“Musha now! wisha now! sure but I tried,
And I lay all night on the cold hill-side,
But ’twas only mesilf that was like to have died,
In Ireland o’er the say.
“But mind what I’m tellin’ ye, Rafferty’s Pat!
Ye’d always be thinkin’ of what ye were at,
In Ireland, in Ireland,
In Ireland by the say.
And on Patrick’s Night if ye hear the pig play,
Or meet wid a rabbit a-dancin’ so gay,