TOMORROW.
89
II.
Shure, an' meself remimbers wan night comin' down be the sthrame,
An' it seems to me now like a bit of yisther-day in a dhrame—
Here where yer Honour seen her—there was but a slip of a moon,
But I hard thim—Molly Magee wid her batchelor, Danny O'Roon—
'You've been takin' a dhrop o' the crathur' an' Danny says 'Troth, an' I been
Dhrinkin' yer health wid Shamus O'Shea at Katty's shebeen;[1]
But I must be lavin' ye soon.' 'Ochone are ye goin' away?'
'Goin' to cut the Sassenach whate' he says 'over the say'—
Shure, an' meself remimbers wan night comin' down be the sthrame,
An' it seems to me now like a bit of yisther-day in a dhrame—
Here where yer Honour seen her—there was but a slip of a moon,
But I hard thim—Molly Magee wid her batchelor, Danny O'Roon—
'You've been takin' a dhrop o' the crathur' an' Danny says 'Troth, an' I been
Dhrinkin' yer health wid Shamus O'Shea at Katty's shebeen;[1]
But I must be lavin' ye soon.' 'Ochone are ye goin' away?'
'Goin' to cut the Sassenach whate' he says 'over the say'—
- ↑ Grog-shop
