Och! Barney, darlint, jewel dear, why did you die? och, hone!
Then they waked this Irish gintleman, the boy of the oulden time.
Though all things in their coarse must change, and seasons pass away,
Yet Irish hearts of oulden time were just as at this day.
Each Irish boy he took a pride to prove himself a man,
To serve a friend and bate a foe, it always was the plan
Of a raal old Irish gintleman, the boy of the oulden time.
The Fine Old Dutch Gentleman.
I’ll sing you now a Dietchen song ’bout Hans Yon Krouplegheet,
Vot keept a lager bier saloon up in de Bowery shtreet,