“My goodness, Phelim, but you tuck a, burdyeen off o' me! Faix, you'll see how happy we'll be.”
“To be sure we will! But I'm tould you're sometimes crass, Mrs. Doran. Now, you must promise to be kind an' lovin' to the childre, or be the vestment, I'll break off the match yet.”
“Och, an' why wouldn't I, Phelim, acushla? Sure that's but rason.”
“Well, take this book an' swear it. Be gorra, your word won't do, for it's a thing my mind's made up on. It's I that'll be fond o' the childre.”
“An' how am I to swear it, Phelim? for I never tuck an oath myself yet.”
“Take the book in your hand, shut one eye, and say the words afther me. Be the contints o' this book,”
“Be the contints o' this book,”
“I'll be kind an' motherly, an' boistherous,”
“I'll be kind, an' motherly, an boistherous,”
“To my own childhre,”