Which he drove, with the cross, from Erin’s fair climes;
But alas! when the saint had long slept in the grave,
A serpent, more monstrous, crept out from the wave;
He seemed a good genius—was joyous and frisky—
And so he was welcomed, and they christened him Whiskey.
A favorite he grew, and at wedding or fair—
By every one cherished—sure Whiskey was there!
And all the world fancied, when he took a part,
Though ’t were praying or dancing, it came from the heart.
But at last it was seen that a demon of night