Down from Mythology into Thayology,
Troth! and Conchology, if he’d the call.
Och! Father O’Flynn, you’ve a wonderful way wid you,
All the ould sinners are wishful to pray wid you,
All the young childer are wild for to play wid you,
You’ve such a way wid you, Father avick!
Still for all you’ve so gentle a soul,
Gad, you’ve your flock in the grandest control;
Checking the crazy ones, coaxing onaisy ones,
Lifting the lazy ones on with a stick.