And sartin sure his aim was;
He gave the keepers many a run,
And didn’t mind the game laws.
St. Pathrick wanst was passin’ by
O’Ryan’s little houldin’,
And as the saint felt wake and dhry,
He thought he’d enther bould in;
“O’Ryan,” says the saint, “avick!
To praich at Thurles I’m goin’;
So let me have a rasher, quick,