"The nagur States wanted a row,
And now, be me sowl, but they've got in it!
They've chosen a bed that is hard,
However they shtrive for to cotton it.
I'm thinkin', when winter comes on
They'll all be inclined to come in again;
But then we must bate them at first"—
"You're right, sir," says Misther McFinnigan.
"Och hone! but it's hard that a swate
Good-lookin' young chap like myself indade,