Feel yer way to the crock, till ye’ve caught her
(In the dark it’s ye are, so remimber, hould tight),
Take a pull—an’ thin dhrink some could wather.
Av ye meet wid misfortune, beyant your controwl,
Av disease gets a hould iv the praties,
Or the slip iv a pig gets the masles, poor sowl;
No matther how sarious yer case is—
Don’t go walking about wid yer hands crossed behind,
And a face like a cow’s—only shorther,—
Sure the best way to keep up yer sperits, ye’ll find