And bright morning will give dirty night the black lie.
And ’tis plased that I am, and why not, to be sure,
Since ’tis all for good luck,” says bold Rory O’More.
“Arrah, Kathleen, my darlint, you’ve teased me enough,
And I’ve thrashed for your sake Dinny Grimes and Jim Duff;
And I’ve made myself, drinking your health, quite a baste,
So, I think, after that, I may talk to the praste.”
Then Rory, the rogue, stole his arm round her neck,
So soft and so white, without freckle or speck!
And he looked in her eyes that were beaming with light;