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'The day that traitors sould him and inimies bought him, The day that the red gold and red blood was paid Then the green turned pale and thrembled like the dead leaves in Autumn, And the heart an' hope iv Ireland in the could grave was laid.
'Ye wor the bravest gentleman, an' the best that ever stood, And your eyelid never thrembled for danger nor for dread, An' nobleness was flowin' in each stream of your blood My bleasing on you night au' day, an' Glory be your bed.
Then Counahan tuk the hog-yoke an' thrembled over it for a whoile, an' made out, betwix' that an' the chart an' the singin' in his head, that they was to the south'ard o' Sable Island, gettin' along glorious, but speakin' nothin'. Then they broached another keg, an' quit speculatin' about anythin' fer another spell.
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