Quick! flutther up, as if you wor a blackbird from a cat!"
I never felt so brave, in all me life, me courage rose,
To bid him go to blakers!—but the barrel at me nose,
Brought down me heart like wallop, till I felt it, in me brogue,
An' so I done his dirty work, the ugly thievin' rogue!
I loosed the crather from the shafts, and sthrapped the rug, an' then,
He vaulted on her back, an' faced her up the road again,
"You'll find her in the mornin', on the grass in Phœnix Park,"
He shouted, as with skelpin' whip, he galloped thro' the dark,
An' left me cursin' in a fit, beside me sthranded yoke,