Herself (the Lord be good to her!), the aunts and rafts of cousins,
The young folks and the children,—but Himself came first.
Master of the House he was, and well for them that knew it:
His cheeks like winter apples and his head like snow;
Eyes as blue as water when the sun of March shines through it.
And steppin' like a soldier with his stick held so.
Faith, but he could tell a tale would serve a man for wages,
Sing a song would put the joy of dancin' in two sticks;
But Saints between themselves and harm that saw him in his rages,
Blazin' and oratin' over chess and politics.