Plague on ye, come back!
Och! ye villainous pack,
Ye slaves of the Saxon, ye blind bastard bunch!
Whelps weak and unstable,
I only am able
The Celt-hating Sassenach wholly to s-c-rr-unch!
Yet for me ye won't work,
But sneak homeward and shirk,
Ye've an eye on the ould spider, GLADSTONE, a Saxon!
He'll sell ye, no doubt.