And didn’t he likewise build me?
Sure, he built him an illigant pigstye,
That made all the Munster boys stare.
Besides a great many fine castles—
But, bad luck,—they were all in the air.
For in rainy, &c.
Though I’d scorn to be rude to a lady,
Miss Fortune and I can’t agree;
So I flew without wings from green Erin—
Is there anything green about me?