"I'll guard you, by the barracks of the Polis, at Glencree,
An' dhrive, as if yer car was late, to bring the Royal Mail!
Whip up! as if the divil sat upon your horse's tail!"
I gev the mare a coaxer, of the knots upon me whip,
An' rowlin thro' the darkness, where the road begins to dip,
I bowled upon me journey, with the load of John McKune,
An' fits of wondher, why he dhrove that night to Knockmaroon;
An' just as we were wheelin' out, beyond the feather bed,
The boys put up their lamplight, an' alightin' down, he said
Some hurried words an' whisperin's, then with a cheer for him,