Long life to yees, and may you niver walk,
Not even to your grave, but ride foriver;
Good luck to yees," and without more of talk
He pulled the forelock 'neath his tattered hat,
And started off; but plans of mice and men
Gang oft agley, again and yet again.
Full half a mile upon his homeward road
Poor Patrick toiled beneath his heavy load.
A hilltop gained, he stopped to rest, alas!
He laid his mare's egg on some treacherous grass;