A roll of pigtail he has girded on,
And a grey goose slung behind him.
“Blarney-lane,” said the feathery knight.
“Though all the world betrays thee,
Sweet spot where first I saw the light,
One faithful heart shall praise thee!
But the knight he fell—’twas Hooper’s gain—
And it brought his small soul under;
For the North-west Ward he’ll ne’er speak again;
Nor her true burgesses sunder.