You riz up such a rout.
I thought you'd wake me wife! she sleeps,
Down in a churchyard near!"
Wid that, the dark dissective turned,
An' bursted in a tear!
I dhribbled out a few meself,
Me brow, wid shame I bint,
An' like a lamb, from slaughter, slow,
Wid tottherin' steps I wint,
But never, never from that day,