'Twas in the busy period, whin the Fenians wor at war,
I mopes'd around the Dargle, on a newly painted car;
Whin, creepin' from the ditches, like a bogey in the moon,
A man proposed the journey of a dhrive to Knockmaroon.
He might as well have axed me on the minute, for a run,
To Roosha or to Paykin, or the divil or the sun!
He might as well have axed me, for a Rocky Mountain jaunt;
So I bounced him with an answer of the sudden words, "I can't!"
The boys to-night are risin' an' I darn't go impugn
Me car into the danger, of a dhrive to Knockmaroon!"