So off we set, an we splittin' our sides laughin'--ha, ha,
ha--at the figure the priest cut. However, we could do no good, an'
he never could pull up the horse, till he came full flight to his own
house, opposite the pound there below, and the whole town in convulsions
when they seen him. We gother up his clothes, an' brought them home to
him, an' a good piece o' fun-we had wid him, for he loved the joke as
well as any man. Well, he was the good an' charitable man, the same
Father Soolaghan; but so simple that he got himself into fifty scrapes,
God rest him! Och, och, she's lyin' low that often laughed at that, an'
I'm here--ay, I have no one, no one that 'ud show me sich a warm heart
as she would. (Weeps.) However, God's will be done. I'll sing yez a song
she liked:--
'Och, Brian O'Lynn, he had milk an' male,
A two-lugged porringer wantin' a tail.'
Musha, I'm out agin--ha, ha, ha! Why, I b'lieve there's pishthrogues
an me, or I'd remember it. Bud-an-age, dhrink of all ye. Lie in to the
liquor, I say; don't spare it. Here, Mike, send us up another gallon,
Faith, we'll make a night of it.
'Och, three maidens a milkin' did go
An' three maidens a milkin' did go;
An' the winds they blew high
An' the winds they blew low,
An' they dashed their milkin' pails to an' fro.
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