If it lash out behoind, as it could, oive me fears.
By the sowl of St. Pat. oi'd as soon risk a spill
From those blayguard buck-jumpers of Buffalo Bill!
Gift horse? Oh, by jabers that's not what we're afther,
We'd breed for ourselves if they'd give us a chance.
Balfour, ye stand there wid an oi full o' laughter.
Ye divil, we know that cool optical dance.
Come the comether on us then, would ye, ye wag,
Wid this "ginerous" gift of a dangerous nag?
All shenanigin', that's what it is, sheer purtence;