But ere he had rattled at Mulrooney’s gate,
The bride had consinted, poor Paddy came late,
And a fresh-water sailor, as niver smelt tar,
Was to wed the swate Norah of Paddy Dunbar.
So bowldly he marched into Mulrooney’s stall,
’Mongst mothers, and brothers, and cousins, and all;
Then spake ould Mulrooney, his fist in his hand
While the spalpeen of a bridegroom quite spacheless did stand,
“Och, come ye in pace here; or come ye in war,
Or to jig at our wedding, ye blaygard Dunbar?”