And snug in his quarters, at dead of night,
The Yankee General found him;
His bed all ready, his candle alight,
And bottles of whisky around him.
And when at his door came the clanking and noise,
His courage all sank to zero;
For, though at the head of the Fenian "bhoys,"
He wasn't exactly a hero.
When the Britishers find that he really is gone,
In impotent rage they upbraid him;