An’ he got stung by a bumble bee,
Ker-flew dar, ker-flew.
“De coon he begin to bite and bite,
An’ we pepper way wi’ all our might,
An’ down came he, dead to right,
Ker-flew dar, ker-flew.”
This piece of nonsense received a great deal of applause from all parties, and then the next thing in order was a drink.
After that the bridegroom, being master of ceremonies, called upon Barney to favor the company with a real genuine, rattling old Irish jig.
“An I’ll thry,” said Barney. “Master Pomp.”
“Yes, sar,” returned the grinning darkey.