Between the finger and the thumb,
There lies a big blister, as large as a plum.
I hunted my wren five miles or yon,
Through hedges, ditches, briars, and bushes I knocked him down.
So here he is, as you may see,
Upon the top of a holly-tree.
With a bunch of ribbons by its side,
And the Cork boys to be her guide.
Shake, shake, shake of the box,
All silver and no brass,