'Twas I could win the pick of them from any lad or lover;
Arrah! for the times before me dancin' days were over!
What's come to all the lads to-day,—these mournful ways they're keepin',
Grudgin' any hour to play and wastin' nights in sleepin'.
(Readin' be the chimney-place,—that dacent in their habits,
You'd sooner get a fight or song be callin' upon rabbits.)
Faith, I'd change the lot for one rejoicin', rantin' rover,
The like of me, myself, before me dancin' days were over.