And watched the seconds, chasing the donkeys round the plain;
And when at length, we caught them, and brought them back once more,
With fits of indignation, the baffled foemen swore;
"Bad scran to it!" said Gorman, "O'Musha, yis bad scran"
Cried Pat O'Byrne, "It's not a fight, for any dacent man,
Four mortial hours we've struggled—an' I'm all in a sweat!"
Said Gorman "Pon me sowl, I got no chance to kill ye yet!"
"The fight has been protracted, and divil a thing is done,
I vote we go and tell her", said O'Byrne, "that it's no fun,
To fight, as we've been fighting. Tib's Eve might come, and go,