Thus Pat spoke, “My honies, now I give up de ghost,
I hope of my death you’ll all make de most;
One favour I’ll ask—the same I will crave—
Kick a thundering big row up, now, over my grave;
And, unless I jump up and flourish my sprig,
My boys, you’ll conclude I’m as dead as a pig!”
Honest Pat was obey’d—the howls rent the sky,
And the spalpeens all join’d in the “hubbaboo” cry.
“Hubbaboo!—philliloo!
Arrah, my darling, why did you die?