Get a seat on a trap that is safe not to spill,
In its well pack a hamper, then off for a scamper,
And hurroo for the glories of Bellewstown Hill!
On the road how they dash on, rank, beauty, and fashion,
It Banagher bangs, by the table o’ war!
From the coach of the quality, down to the jollity
Jogging along on an ould jaunting-car.
Though straw cushions are placed, two feet thick at laste,
Its jigging and jumping to mollify still;
Oh, the cheeks of my Nelly are shaking like jelly,