Till poor Biddy cried out, “They’ve graded the street!”
“Bad luck to their sowls, thin,” I cried in my hate;
“I’ll sue them for spoiling my cottage an’ land,”
Whin Biddy sobbed out, “Dear Pat, ye are late,
’Tis a bill agin us that I hould in my hand.”
In trouble I looked at the figgers complete,
And saw four hundred dollars for grading the street!
Poor Biddy was faithful, an’ didn’t repine;
Her cousin the childer an’ her had took in,
’Til I could wid our lavings another house find;