And ah ankle ambuscadin’ through her gown’s delightful whirl;
But what need when all the village
Has forsook its peaceful tillage,
And flown to war and pillage all for Fan Fitzgerl!
Alfred Perceval Graves (1846).
FATHER O’FLYNN.
Of priests we can offer a charmin’ variety,
Far renown’d for larnin’ and piety;
Still, I’d advance ye without impropriety,
Father O’Flynn is the flow’r of them all.