For with small-pox ’twas scarred across,
And the shoulders of the ugly dog
Were almost double a yard across.
Oh, the lump of an Irishman,
The whisky-devouring Irishman,
The great he-rogue, with his wonderful brogue, the fighting, rioting Irishman!
One of his eyes was bottle-green,
And the other eye was out, my dear,
And the calves of his wicked-looking legs
Were more than two feet about, my dear.