Young O'Donoghue, too, Is a bit of a screw, For he wears an old coat which has never been new. The plain English of which is, That, in spite of their riches, 'Twas a pair and a half of his father's old breeches. He has shouldered two legs--for the tails split another; While his back took a seat which his neck too will cover.
Now they're all introduced but a queer little man, With broad nose, bushy hair, and complexion like tan; Who a foreigner seems, quite a fresh importation, An exotic transplanted from some foreign nation.
"But what has delayed them?" Uncle Jonas exclaimed; "Some harm has waylaid them; Or they're to be blamed. For I hoped ere this time to have given away This good dame, who I fear on my hands still must stay. I bestowed her before, but just like a bad penny She returns to my pocket, though welcome as any. For of her and the children it must be allowed I with justice have reason to be truly proud." "We had better begin, Food thus spoilt becomes sin," Exclaimed Flanagan John, with a ravenous grin; "For, believe when I say, Scarce a toothful to-day I have eat, that I honour to all things might pay. I now too feel quite sinking, While I cannot help thinking They've mistook the day." He continued by winking; When his speech was cut short by a loud joyful shout From young Patrick O'Neal, who had kept the look-out. "Here is Murphy a-coming! Hurrah! hurrah! Our mother's young husband! Our handsome new Pa!"
"Oh, I'm covered with blushes, one heap of confusion; Sure to pop in so late appears quite an intrusion. But I thought of a proverb which Truth conveys over, Which says, 'Coming, though late, is still better than never.' But you all will forgive, my excuse when you've heard-- Yet just now on that subject I'll speak not a word; I've delayed you too long--for the present at least. When you're fed, I'll tell all. But, pray, where is the priest? I can't see his dear face. What! forgotten to call? Oh then, sure, by good luck, I'm not last after all."
"Oh," said Jonas, "like you He some excuse too Most likely will give us for coming so late. But as hunger grows stronger, We will tarry no longer, For hunger will not for a priest even wait." "Stay, for him I'll atone, 'Tis no fault of his own," Said Murphy; I'm certain he'd choose (From the little I know), Through great dangers to go, Than such a superb banquet lose."