But Dermot, his mind on love bent,
In search of his sweetheart he went;
Peep’d in here and there,
As he walked thro’ the Fair,
And took a small taste in each tent,
As he went,
Och! on Whisky and Love he was bent.
And who should he spy in a jig,
With a Meal-man so tall and so big,
But his own darling Kate