An' he gnawed his moustache, an' he cursed an' he swore,
But the more that he argued, Oi shook it the more.
Thin he called me a dolt an' an ignorant fool,
An' he said that Oi ought to go back to the school,
An' he flew in a rage an' wint black in the face,
An' he flung in a hullaballoo from the place.
Bedad, Oi was startled. Him beggin' me vote,
An' he'd three of his own too!—The gradiness o't!
Ye could scarcely belave it onless it was thrue,
An' him sittin' oop for a gintleman too!