Where Whiskey was worshipped as more than a saint!
There was madness and death—there was sorrow and guile—
Yet—the source of them all—he was worshipped the while!
But murder will out—and Whiskey grew bold,
Was detected—convicted of all we have told.
St. Patrick was dead, but he left an example—
And so Father Matthew adopted the sample;
He attacked the old monster, and though he roared out,
And flourished his tail, and turned round about—
Mat laid it on well, and his blows, like a sledge,