Think how their high achievements once made Erin’s greatest glory—
Yet now their bones lie mouldering under weeds and cypress boughs,
And so, for all your pride, will yours, O, Woman of Three Cows!
The O’Carrolls also, famed when Fame was only for the boldest,
Rest in forgotten sepulchres with Erin’s best and oldest;
Yet who so great as they of yore in battle or carouse?
Just think of that, and hide your head, good Woman of Three Cows!
Your neighbour’s poor, and you it seems are big with vain ideas,
Because, inagh![1] you’ve got three cows, one more, I see, than she has,
That tongue of yours wags more at times than Charity allows,