’Pon my conscience, I’ll say,
Such cherries might tempt a man’s father!
Och hone! wirrasthrue!
I’m alone in this world without you.
Och hone! by the man in the moon,
You taze me all ways,
That a woman can plaze,
For you dance twice as high with that thief Pat Magee,
As when you take share of a jig, dear, with me,
Tho’ the piper I bate,