It's most exasperating, that when my back I turn
You pace the Ranelagh Gardens, with cotton-ball O'Byrne."
The linen draper started, and with indignant shout,
Said he, "She loves me only, you ferule-fingered lout,
Your time you're only wasting, so take a thought, and spurn,
The idle hopes, that lure ye," said Mister Pat O'Byrne.
Just then up came a stranger, with bending courtesy,
He doffed his triple tilted, "Good-night, mam'selle," said he,
Then turning to O'Gorman, and then, to Pat O'Byrne,