ting through the fields back to Barney Casey’s. It’s little welcome they have for me there, but they must keep me saycret now for their own sakes.”
With that he got upon his legs, and houldin’ up his white dhress, climbed through the stile into Casey’s field.
The first thing he saw there was a thin but jolly-minded looking pig, pushing up roots with her nose and tossing them into the air through sheer divilment.
Dark-eyed Susan was she called, and she belonged to Tom Mulligan, the one-legged ballad-maker, who had named her after the famous ballad.
Mulligan was too tindher-hearted to sell her to be kilt, and too poor to keep her in victuals, so she roamed the fields, a shameless marauder and a nimble-footed freebooter.
“Be-gorr, here’s luck!” said the little King; “since ’tis in Casey’s field, this must be Casey’s baste. I couldn’t ask betther; whinever a pig is frightened it runs to its own house; so I’ll just get on her back and ride down to Casey’s cabin.”
The King looked inquirin’ at Susan, and Susan looked impident suspicion at the King.
“Oh, ho, ye beauty, you know what’s in me mind!”
