HOW FATHER O'SHEE LAID IN HIS CHRISTMAS COALS
Young Patsy Molloy was as purty a boy
As was ever of widdy the pride and the joy;
And as for his ass, sorra crather could pass
That beautiful baste, but for one fault, alas!
When she felt she'd a load, you might kick and might goad,
But divil a fut would she move on the road,
Till you'd tickle her bones wid a handful of stones—
And that hint she'd take, the desateful ould toad!