So we’ll just take a dance while we wait!”
The Piper, to keep him in tune,
Struck up a gay lilt very soon,
Until an arch wag
Cut a hole in his bag,
And at once put an end to the tune
Too soon,
Oh! the music flew up to the moon!
To the Fiddler says Dermot McFigg,
“If you’ll please to play ‘Sheela na gig,’