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Och, whack! Murtagh O'Sullivan,
Tundering, blundering, spaech-howling Barney;
Good lack, art thou so silly vain,
As to suppose we'll be gulled wid thy blarney?
Sure now, thy ‘Raw-head and bloody-bones’ stories
That frighten ould wives,
Almost out of their lives,
Are just the stale fibs of the ould bloody Tories;
Servile hack of the pack,
Frothing their blarney?
Och, whack! Murtagh O'Sullivan,
Tundering, blundering, spaech-howling Barney.