The humour of Ireland

by Unknown

Och hone, Widow Machree,

To be poking the fire, all alone, is a sin,

Och hone, Widow Machree.

Why the shovel and tongs,

To each other belongs,

And the kettle sings songs,

Full of family glee,

While alone with your cup,

Like a hermit you sup,

Och hone, Widow Machree.