"It chanced as M. O'Mulligan was fixing something hot,
The spoon was shaken from his hand, as likewise was the pot;
The plaster from the ceiling, too, came raining on his head,
And like a railway-carriage danced the table, chairs, and bed.
"He tore into the entry-way, and 'Stop the jig!' says he:
'Its shakin' down the house ye are, as any one can see;'
But not a soul in all the swarm to dance at all forbore,
And thumping down their brogans came, like hammers on the floor.
"And then the house commenced to sway and strain and groan and crack,
And all the stairs about the place fell crashing, front and back;