I've sent a couple of donkeys, I thought that they might teach
What fools you are, for fighting, for what's beyond your reach,
But, silly as my donkeys, if both of you remain,
Remorse for death, will follow,
I'm yours, Theresa Jane."
We sought a Pub, and pondered, and drank, and sadly swore,
We would not be connected, with duels evermore,
I drank of stout, O'Gorman, and Byrne, of harder stuff,
They swore of duel fooling, they both had quite enough,—
Now, here's the bunch of fives, boys, there is no better rod