And the culminating blow is this: _You stay out late at night_. Now, Matilda dear, you must confess To do this is _not_ right. Where you go to, dear, or what you do, There really is _no_ telling, And with rage and indignation My fond foolish heart is swelling. Yet the faults which I've enumera- Ted can't be wondered at, When one realises clearly That "Matilda"—is a _cat_.
In the South Pacific Ocean In an oiland called Koodoo, An' the monarch ov thot oiland Iz King Hulla-bulla-loo. Oi wuz docthor to thot monarch Wonct. Me name iz Pat O'Dooley. Yis, you're roight. Oi come from Oirland, From the County Ballyhooly.
An' Oi'll tell yez how Oi came to be A docthor in Koodoo; May the Divil burn the ind ov me, If ivery word's not thrue. Oi wuz sailin' to Ameriky, Aboard the "Hilly Haully," Which wuz drounded in the ocean, For the toime ov year wuz squally.
An' Oi floated on a raft, sor, For some twinty days or more, Till Oi cum to Koodoo Island, Phwich Oi'd niver seen before. But the natives ov thot counthry, Sure, would take a lot ov batin', For a foine young sthrappin' feller They think moighty pleasint atin'.
An' they wint an' told the King, sor, Him called Hulla-bulla-loo. "Ye come from Oirland, sor?" sez he. "Bedad!" sez Oi, "thot's true." Thin he whispered to the cook, sor; An' the cook he giv me warnin': "It's Oirish _stew_ you'll be," sez he, "To-morrow, come the marnin'."
But to-morrow, be the Powers, sor, The King wuz moighty bad, Wid most odjus pains insoide him, An' they nearly drove him mad; So he sint a little note, sor, By the cook, apologoizin' For not cooking me that day, sor, Wid politeness most surprisin'!
An' Oi wrote him back a letther, Jist expressin' my regret, Thot Oi shouldn't hiv the honor, Sor, ov bein' cooked an' et; An' Oi indid up the letther Wid a midical expresshin, As would lead him to imagine Oi belonged to the professhin.
Och! he sint for me _at wonct_, sor. "If ye'll _only_ save me loife," Sez he, "Oi'll give yez money, An' a most attractive woife, An' ye won't be in the _menu_ Ov me little dinner party If ye'll only pull me round," sez he, "An' make me sthrong an' hearty."
So Oi made a diagnosis Wid my penknife an' some sthring (Though Oi hadn't got a notion How they made the blessid thing; But Oi knew thot docthors did it Phwen they undertook a case, sor), An' Oi saw his pulse, an' filt his tongue, An' pulled a sarious face, sor.