Would sing, and dance, and hurl, and fight, and make the spalpeens roar,
Like a raal ould Irish Gintleman—the boy of the oulden time.
But och! mavrone! once at a row, ould Barney got a knock,
And one that kilt him—’case he couldn’t overget the shock;
They laid him out so beautiful, and then set up a groan,
Och! Barney, darlint, jewel dear, why did ye die? och hone!
Then they wak’d this Irish Gintleman, the boy of the oulden time.
Tho’ all things in their course must change, and seasons pass away,
Yet Irish hearts of oulden time, were just as at this day.
Each Irish boy he took a pride to prove himself a man—