The divil a copy I wrote,
But not a gossoon in the village,
Dare thread on the tail iv me coat.
I an illigant hand was at courting,
For lessons I took in the art,
Till Cupid, that blaggard, while sporting,
A big arrow sint smack through me heart;
Miss O’Connor, I lived straight fornnist her,
And tindher lines to her I wrote,
Who dare say a black word against her,