Things, Case was not accustomed to peruse,
Careless of news;
But Pompey always read these bloody journals,
Full of Kilmany and Killmore work,
The freaks of some O’Shaunessy’s shillaly,
Of morning frays by some O’Brien Burke,
Or horrid nightly outrage by some Daly;
How scums deserving of the Devil’s ladle,
Would fall upon the harmless scull and knock it,
And if he found an infant in the cradle