A Ballad

Patrick astore, what news upon the town?
By my soul there's bad news, for the gold she was pull'd down,
The gold she was pull'd down, of that I'm very sure,
For I saw'd them reading upon the towlsel doore.
Sing, och, och, hoh, hoh.

Arrah! who was him reading? 'twas jauntleman in ruffles,
And Patrick's bell she was ringing all in muffles;
She was ringing very sorry, her tongue tied up with rag,
Lorsha! and out of her shteeple there was hung a black flag.
Sing, och, &c.

Patrick astore, who was him made this law?
Some they do say, 'twas the big man of straw;
But others they do say, that it was Jug-Joulter,
The devil he may take her into hell and Boult-her!
Sing, och, &c.

Musha! Why Parliament wouldn't you maul,
Those carters, and paviours, and footmen, and all;
Those rascally paviours who did us undermine,
Och ma ceade millia mollighart on the feeders of swine!
Sing, och, &c.
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