Well, sure enough he wint about among his neighbours the next day, and he got an owld kittle from one, and a saucepan from another; and he took them to the tailor, and he sewed him up a shuit o' tin clothes like any knight arriant and he borrowed a pot lid, and that he was very partic'lar about, bekase it was his shield and he wint to a frind o' his, a painther and glazier, and made him paint an his shield in big letthers—
'I'M THE MAN OF ALL MIN,
THAT KILL'D THREE SCORE AND TIN
AT A BLOW.'
'When the people sees that,' says the waiver to himself, 'the sorra one will dar' for to come near me.'
And with that he towld the wife to scour out the small iron pot for him, 'For,' says he, 'it will make an iligant helmet'; and when it was done, he put it an his head, and his wife said, 'Oh, murther, Thady jewel, is it puttin' a great heavy iron pot an your head you are, by way iv a hat?'
'Sartinly,' says he; 'for a knight arraint should always have a woight an his brain.'
'But, Thady dear,' says the wife, 'there's a hole in it, and it can't keep out the weather.'
'It will be the cooler,' says he, puttin' it an him; 'besides, if I don't like it, it is aisy to stop it with a wisp o' sthraw, or the like o' that.'
'The three legs of it looks mighty quare, stickin' up,' says she.
'Every helmet has a spike stickin' out o' the top of it,' says the waiver; 'and if mine has three, it's only the grandher it is.'
'Well,' says the wife, getting bitther at last, 'all I can say is, it isn't the first sheep's head was dhress'd in it.'