e all the tin pans and set up sich a howl,
That the last fiery divil ran off, be me sowl!
And we writ on his tombsthone, "He died av a shpell
Caught av dhrinkin' cowld watther shtraight out av a well."
Now don't yez be gravin' no more,
Surrinder yer sighin' forlorn!
'Twill be fine whin ye cross to the Stygian shore,
To be sint by a gintleman born.

VI.

There was swate Ellen Mulligan, sazed wid a cough,
And ivery one said it would carry her off.
"Whisht," says I, "thrust to me, now, and don't yez go crazy;
If the girlie must die, sure I'll make her die aisy!"
So I sairched through me books for the thrue diathesis
Of morbus dyscrasia tuburculous phthasis;
And I boulsthered her up wid the shtrongest av tonics.
Wid iron and copper and hosts av carbonics;
Wid whiskey served shtraight in the finest av shtyle,
And I grased all her inside wid cod-liver ile!
And says she (whin she died), "Och, dochther, me honey,
'Tis you as can give us the worth av our money;
And begorra, I'll shpake to the divil this day
Not to kape yez a-waitin' too long for yer pay."
So don't yez be gravin' no more!
To the dogs wid yer sighin' forlorn!
Here's dhrugs be the handful and pills be the score,
And to dale thim a gintleman born.

VII.

There was Teddy Maloney who bled at the nose
Afther blowin' the fife; and mayhap ye'd suppose
'Twas no matther at all; but the books all agrade
Twas a serious visceral throuble indade;
Wid the blood swimmin' roond in a circle elliptic,
The Schneidarian membrane was wantin' a shtyptic;
The anterior nares were nadin' a plug,
And Teddy himself was in nade av a jug.
Thin I rowled out a big pill av sugar av lead,
And I dosed him, and shtood him up firm on his head,
And says I: "Now, me lad, don't be atin' yer lingth,
But dhrink all ye plaze, jist to kape up yer shtringth."
Faith! His widdy's a jewel! But whisht! don't ye shpake!
She'll be Misthriss O'Flannigan airly nixt wake.
Coom, don't yez be gravin' no more!
Shmall use av yer sighin' forlorn;
For yer widdies, belike, whin their mournin' is o'er,
May marry some gintleman born.

VIII.

Ould Biddy O'Cardigan lived all alone,
And she felt mighty nate wid a house av her own--
Shw