Most becomin’ to ye, dear!

Like the red rose on the bush is——

She—Sir I you needn’t come so near!

He—Over lane and road and boreen,

Troth, I’ve come a weary way,

Jusht to whisper ye, asthoreen,

Somethin’ that I’ve longed to say.

I’ve a cosy cottage, which is

Jusht the proper size for two——

She—There, I’ve tangled all me stitches,