T HEY'RE longin' for a wee lad
Up in Tullagh Hall —
Where niver wanst a cradle was,
An' niver child at all!

They're shpeakin' all in whispers,
They're threadin' on their toes,
An' tin-and-twinty sewin'-gerrls
Is thrimmin' satin clothes!

A deal av fuss an' feathers
Gintry makes, aroo,
Wid all their frightened wimmen-folk
When wan to wan is two!

They've twinty-hundred acres
Hid be jealous wall —
Yet niver throd a little foot
Thro' lonely Tullagh Hall!

But here beneath the ould thatch
Childer' come so fast,
In faith, we put the first t' bed
For room to rock the last!