The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | ||
Aw, she up and made a run at us,
And we cut like the mischief; and she gave a cuss;
And then she laughed like fit to split—
“She was never hit! she was never hit!”
Says Jack. “No! no!” says I, “I'll swear
There's no mistake you hit the hare.
But that ould caillagh dhu! what nex'!
Treminjis wutchin', xxx!”
And we cut like the mischief; and she gave a cuss;
571
“She was never hit! she was never hit!”
Says Jack. “No! no!” says I, “I'll swear
There's no mistake you hit the hare.
But that ould caillagh dhu! what nex'!
Treminjis wutchin', xxx!”
The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | ||